


The Hunter & the Prey

by FiccinDylan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (this will be tagged when it happens), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Dark, Deputy Derek Hale, Established Relationship, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Harlequin, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Phone Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threesome - M/M/M, Topping from the Bottom, Unreliable Narrator, Versatile Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Work In Progress, benois beads, benwa beads, the sheriff's name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: Stiles and Derek decide to spice up their bedroom (and living room and kitchen, and really the whole house and most of the grounds) life with a visit from Chris Argent.  When they ask him to come over, they didn’t realize he’d be bringing so much baggage.Chris always did know how to pack.aka.. I didn’t mean for this to be Harlequin-y, but I’m not mad about it, sooo...Ps. There is a scene of dubious consent. It will be tagged and trigger warnings will be listed.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [devilscut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilscut/gifts).



> Welcome to 95!
> 
> So, I'm working on this epic sweeping thing, but I also really wanted to get this done and out to you guys. I'm going to do this WIP style and you'll see the posting style is gong to be a bit like a TV show? Like there's literally a cold open, heh. Bear with me and come along for the ride. Please leave comments and kudos, it will help inform how this thing goes!

**

He’d just gotten off of a long shift - a double - though the creak in his bones tell him it feels like endless amounts of ever increasing multiples. It’s getting to that point where he can remember more time at the Beacon County Sheriff’s Station than outside of it. He wasn’t sure if the lack of a home life made him sad or thankful for the distraction. He supposed that it could be the latter, but he’s not entirely sure what he needs to be distracted from. He and Melissa are good; her schedule as head nurse at Beacon Memorial is just as hectic as his so there’s not the threat of neglectful allegations from either side. They both run a tight ship and they understand how important the other’s job is to maintaining the county. There are no missed dinners because plans are rarely made. What’s the value of a reservation only to have it cancelled? Their intimate moments are those spent perched on the edge of the other’s desk forcing food into the gullet of their counterpart and making sure they see the sun at least once per day. It’s a good system.

His bills are paid, early and with a consistency he’s glad for, one that’d alluded him for a while there when things got tight. He’s friends with most of his co-workers so he doesn’t have to worry about missing out hanging with them, and they have some pretty nice TV's at the station for the occasional game when things are slow.

Hell, even Stiles is fine. Derek, his son’s lover, is a deputy at the station and a young trainee who’s shown great potential even without his nearly supernatural strength. The two have been together for close to three years now and Stiles is constantly at the station bringing Derek and the sheriff lunch, or just being nosy and getting into things which oddly gave the sheriff more comfort than it ought to have. So, no, the sheriff can’t think of one thing he’d need to be distracted from, there was nothing that came to mind that he could possibly be avoiding, he supposed he just liked keeping busy.

Even then, he’s off shift and could be taking it easy, but instead he’s in the kitchen, taking items for sandwiches from the fridge, one of him and maybe he’ll make a couple later for Stiles and Derek if they stop by. They had their own place across town, but came by so often that empty nest syndrome didn’t even have a chance to kick in yet. The sheriff was glad for the company, though he enjoyed his quiet. It allowed him to think. At that moment he was planning his next 12 hours before he was due back at the station.

He figured he would eat, take a long, hot shower and then sleep for as long as he could. When he woke up he’d meet Melissa for a quick lunch or early dinner before heading back in. He nodded to himself, satisfied with his plan when his phone buzzes on the counter beside him. He picks it up to see the screen light up with an incoming text message.

“Shit!” he says, staring at the contact name on the screen. It belonged to a very specific person, one whose name that was prefaced with ‘DNA’, but it may as well have been labeled _Distraction_.

Distraction was back in town, had been for a few weeks and kept calling the sheriff to get together and “catch up”. It’s easy enough to do with old friend, maybe even acquaintances, but distracting former lovers? Do old lovers ever really _catch up_? Or do they meet up to measure regret, past, present, sometimes even future? Regret for how they left things, regret _that_ they left things, or even regret for beginning at all? He’s about to swipe on his phone to read yet another suggestion for their reunion that he would have to ignore, when he hears something upstairs.

Instinctively the sheriff places his hand cautiously on the gun holstered at his hip and makes his way slowly to the back stairs. He’s halfway up when his phone buzzes again. He looks down, bewildered, he hadn’t even realized that he still had it in his hand. Another message from Chris. He sighs, and looks up again, hearing another noise. He reaches the top of the stairs and sees a door cracked just across the hall from where he’s standing, now he can hear mumbling, a soft voice chuckling.

“ _Shh- your dad is going to be home soon.”_

_“I’m not in fucking high school anymore, Der, we’re grown assed adults in a grown assed adult relationship, we can fuck in my old room.”_

_“Says the grown assed man who didn’t close the door all the way.”_

_“Shit, I didn’t?”_ the Sheriff can hear a pause and imagines Stiles struggling to look towards the door and groaning upon seeing it cracked slightly. _“Fuck, well, he won’t be home for a while and if he is, you’ll hear him, right? Besides, I can’t be blamed, your tongue was in my ear when you carried me in here… I was distracted.”_

_“You don’t think I’m distracted, shit, the only thing I can concentrate on is you and your fucking smell. Damn, you smell so good, I’m surprised we even made it home.”_

_“Shit, Der, you’re out of it too? So we’re defenseless? Basically fucked if my dad comes home?”_

_“Well… he is a cop.”_

_“You’re such an ass, now hurry up and eat mine while we still have some time!”_

The sheriff rolls his eyes.  Normally he'd have already assumed it was Derek and Stiles, he knew the deputy was off a couple of hours ago, but again there's something in the way.  He's about to turn away when his phone buzzes again. This time there’s a photo attached. He opens the message and is met with a picture of light green, soulful eyes staring at him through the screen. There was no smile, Chris knew better, just the picture and a short message that read: “Sheriff, please… I miss you.” It’s signed _Deputy_ and the sheriff pauses for a moment, leaning heavily on wall outside of his son’s room.

He hadn’t meant to linger. He guesses his intent was to close the door and give the boys their privacy, but he can’t seem to make himself move. As he stood there with his hand on the doorknob, he keeps staring at the phone, keeps getting lost in his deputy’s eyes as the sounds of his boys lovemaking begins to conjure memories of him and his…. _Distraction_.

Something flies on the floor by his foot and it takes the sheriff a moment to realize it’s a sock, lain near the entrance. Instinctively he looks towards the bed and he sees Stiles on his back, with Derek’s head artfully out of sight under the covers. Stiles is staring directly at him, flummoxed, he mouths, ‘ _what are you doing?!_ ’ to which the sheriff has the good sense to blush fire engine red before closing the door fully and quietly and hightailing it to his room.

He takes a quick shower, knowing Stiles will want it soon and he doesn’t want to drain all of the hot water. He finishes and dresses and goes back downstairs to finish the abandoned sandwiches. After a moment, as if on cue, he hears the shower going and soon after that he hears padding on back stairwell.

Stiles walks into the kitchen habitually, pats his dad on the arm while the sheriff gives a little wave. He points at a small platter of sandwiches and Stiles nods as he goes to the fridge to pull out some fruit and veggies and two beers for he and Derek.

“Thanks, dad. For the sandwiches.” He says finally, dicing a cucumber for a small salad. The sheriff nods and Stiles' grins, “You okay? You seem a little distracted, are you sleeping well?”

Stiles could mince words with the best of them, but he usually afforded his father the courtesy of being direct. Even though the predicament in which Stiles’ made these observations was… _sticky_ , the sheriff appreciated his son’s concerns.

“Just got a message from an old friend, that’s all. Someone I lost touch with for a while and they want to reconnect so it’s been on my mind.” Sheriff tried to tell as much of the truth as he was comfortable with, and prayed Stiles wouldn’t push.  He busied his attention back to his sandwich though he could feel Stiles' stare on his back.  The kid had an uncanny way of lasering straight to the heart while still remaining full of delicacy for the situation.

“Oh? That’s all? A little message was enough to make you creepily hover in the hallway while your son was chasing an orgasm not twenty feet away?”

“Jesus, Stiles!” Sheriff took it back; he’d raised a tactless asshole.

“Well how do you think I feel? I’m having the time of my life, seeing God and shit and then I open my eyes while my boyfriend’s tongue is in my ass and see my old man looking wistfully at his phone! Thank goodness you were holding the doorknob, I thought you were gonna start jerking off!”

“You’re disgusting, you know that?" the sheriff yells, pointing a butter knife at his son, refusing to be embarrassed, "First off, you have a home, go fuck there! And secondly I was going to shut the door to give you two deviants a little privacy and then I got the message and got distracted. Shit, what’s wrong with you?”

“You did drugs before you conceived me and you know it. This is your fault.” At ‘ _this_ ’ Stiles indicates to his entire self and grins sheepishly as he side eyes his dad. The sheriff shakes his head and pulls his son into him for a hug. He’s taller than his dad now, it’s bittersweet.

They release and Stiles loads up the tray before heading back to the stairs to feed his mate. Before he leaves, he turns and looks at the sheriff.

“You gonna tell me who it is?” the old man looks at his son. He has his mother’s eyes, the glistening doe brown his late wife would slay him with daily. He welcomed it every day, knowing he would die a million times just to rest in those eyes and before she left them for good, she gave them to Stiles. The sheriff shakes his head, he knows Stiles is intuitive, know he’s probably found a way to pilfer the sheriff’s phone in even those few minutes and see exactly who it was who sent the message. Even if he doesn’t know about their past amorous connection, Stiles would figure it out. He’s always been perceptive, it was the trait the sheriff was most proud of. Stiles nods.

“Okay, old man. But if you ever feel like spilling, I’m here, ok?” He doesn’t wait for the sheriff to nod, just makes his way upstairs and the sheriff can hear him heckling his lover and then he can hear the mumbles of said lover’s sleepy reply.

The sheriff stands at the counter and takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully and blatantly ignoring his phone. He thinks maybe he’ll call Melissa and tell her to go the diner for meatball subs for the night. He figures he can convince Stiles he’s earned it after the eyefull he got today, despite it being mostly his fault. He’d have to suffer a side salad instead of greek potatoes, but it’d be worth it.

He’s about to reach for the phone, but when he does it buzzes once more. He looks at the newest photo on the screen and it freezes him mid-bite. The look on his deputy’s face, he’s seen it before, had just seen it no less than an hour ago on his son’s face, but while his son’s rendition was clearly in the “things to be blocked forever” section of his mind, the face on his screen was one he could never fully file away.

 _‘Cum on John, see me. -D’_ the note said. Inelegant, but perfect. Just like Chris.

John sighs and unlocks his phone. He begins dialing a number as he walks to his room plate in hand. On the way he grabs a bottle of Jack and tucks it under his arm while the call connects, the tinny ring, loud and distracting in his ear. Finally, it connects.

“Hey… it’s been a while.”


	2. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek make a list.

Stiles and Derek aren’t bored. Far from it in fact. They’re a young, vibrant and established couple in the prime of their lives. With all the lacrosse Stiles plays to maintain his scholarship; and with all the general workout porn that Derek indulges in, it’s easy to conclude that the sex is _on point_. So why is Stiles wanting a third? It’s a question he supposes every person wanting a third asks themselves at one point or another. He’s not foolish enough to go looking for something to satisfy where Derek can’t. That simply doesn’t exist. He doesn’t want different, he wants _more_.

It’s just… okay, sometimes (and only occasionally) when Stiles is riding Derek, he wonders about what it would feel like if he had a human back support behind him? Something sweaty, fleshy and lean to settle into while Derek is thrusting into him from underneath. He also wondered what it would be like if that same human back support also had a stellar cock that maybe was thrusting into Stiles’ asshole from behind while Derek’s was continuing to thrust from underneath and what if those two penises were alternately rubbing against each other while inside of him... how would _that_ feel?

How would it feel for Derek? Say if when he had Derek’s legs positioned on his shoulders, and had him folded in half, his long, lean cock rubbing over his prostate again and again? Maybe he would enjoy it even more if, oh say, someone else’s dick was in Stiles’ ass and the thrusting momentum would cause Stiles to pound more deeply into Derek than ever before causing them both to combust spontaneously? This wasn’t boredom, it wasn’t dissatisfaction, it was curiosity for the sake of the curious. And curiosity for curiosity sake was science. This was for SCIENCE.

So he tells Derek what he wants and Derek agrees because it’s something that Stiles wants, and Stiles begins to make a list.

“How about Scott?” Derek asks helpfully as he strokes his fingers through Stiles’ hair. His head is resting gingerly on Derek’s chest one leisurely Saturday afternoon as the two cuddle on an old couch outside on the patio. It’s the end of summer and the weather is warm but turning crisp. The turning of the season awakens something in Stiles. He wants a change, nothing too drastic, but something well… warm, but crisp. Stiles sighs lightly, tapping out the rhythm to Derek’s heartbeat.

“Nah, he and Allison are back together, and even with your hot ass on the table I don’t see him messing that up.” Stiles gives Derek’s nipple a playful little tweak and kisses his bristled jaw lightly.

“Isaac?” Derek offers, chuckling a little as Stiles’ nose tickles his neck. He’s already shaking his head no.

“No, Der. I don’t want anyone in my peer group, you know? No one I have to really look at everyday.” It’s not that Stiles is ashamed of what he wants, but his particular fantasy relies on a bit of discretion. What he’s really excited for is the thought of not seeing whomever they chose for a while and then suddenly seeing them and remembering what happened. All the crazy shit they’d have done and then taking that energy back home to Derek. Stiles was already half hard just at the thought. He grinds his hips lazily into Derek’s thigh.

“Let’s think of someone else. Someone off campus, maybe older? Someone we know, but don’t interact with a whole lot.” Derek nods trying to think of someone else, but is having some difficulty concentrating as a rogue hand creeps its way down his torso and into the front of his mysterious self-unbuttoning jeans. Derek tries to move to consider the hand.

“Uhh… Stiles?” He asks mostly with his eyebrows. Stiles grabs his chin with his free hand and tuts at his wolf, shaking his head.

“No, that won’t do,” Stiles teases as his hand slips into the front of Derek’s boxer briefs. “I don’t have a clone and honestly, one of me is handful enough.” he accents this was a gentle squeeze causing Derek to take in a sharp breath.

“Dammit, Stiles!” Derek says hoarsely. Stiles is sure even while riding the high whirl of passion running through him, that Derek is trying to roll his eyes behind his closed lids.

“Think of someone, Derek! This is supposed to be helping you.” Stiles says with a coquettish pout on his mouth. Derek smirks and takes in another shallow breath as Stiles begins to massage his now throbbing member.

“St-stiles, swee- _shit_ , sweetie-” Derek stammers out, “I think you’re supposed to massage my brain, not just my head.” Stiles sits up, smiling mischievously as he positions himself to sitting on Derek’s chest blocking his view of his own member. He looks back at Derek, noticing as a rosy pink begins to color his boyfriend’s cheeks.

“Come on Der-bear, think of someone,” he shrugs, “just throw out a name, any name, there are no wrong answers.” And as Derek’s brain begins to empty of all the blood that was feeding his mind, one name slips out that surprises them both.

“Argent.” Derek says before immediately making a face that’s clearly pondering the choice. It’s not a bad face, not one full of disgust though not one entirely steeped in excitement either. It’s like Argent’s name had been filed away, but Derek couldn’t remember for what. And then Derek thought about fucking that face and maybe Derek didn’t care anymore. Stiles contemplates this for a moment while speeding up his strokes on Derek’s cock. It was now all the way out of his jeans which he’s scrunched down just past his thighs.

“Argent? Hmm.. what an interesting suggestion.” And it was. Chris Argent: former hunter, current… well, Stiles isn’t sure what the hell he does with his time since he’s returned back to Beacon Hills. His family and Derek’s had been at war for decades and it finally toppled when a rogue Argent assassinated the largest number of Hales to date. After a lot of turmoil Argent extended the olive branch and Derek accepted. Stiles knows there’s a lot to the story he’s missing, but for Derek to suggest him must mean Derek is past their former feud. Stiles looks back again at Derek’s face whose eyes are hazy with lust, but fully trained on him. Stiles loves him like this, all horny and pliant yet trying to be attentive.

He moves down Derek’s long body a bit and leans forward, placing his lips around Derek's head, suckling a little before giving it a gentle, playful nip. Derek lets out a breathy moan as his eyes close and his head falls back against the arm of the couch. Stiles pushes back his hips so his jeaned ass is directly in his Derek’s face. Never one to see Stiles’ ass as a deterrent, Derek inhales him with a rumbling groan that Stiles can feel all the way from his anus to the to the tip of his cock. He shudders in anticipation. Stiles slows his generous jerking motions on Derek’s member and licks a very soft line up the front before lightly nestling the head in his cheek. He tongues the slit, letting the taste of Derek’s precum fill his mouth and holds him by the base firmly with his hand. Derek groans again behind him.

“You with me, Bear?” Stiles whispers into Derek’s head as though doing a mic check. “You made an excellent choice and now I need your help weighing out pros and cons, okay?”

Derek nods a little too eagerly, answers “ _yeah, yeah, yeah_ ” a bit too quickly and bucks his hips a tad too excitedly into Stiles’ fist. He reaches forward and pulls Stiles back briefly to pull off his shirts and then runs his hands up Stiles’ bare back and shoulders, his fingertips teasing his moles.

“Let’s see,” Stiles continues, “Pro number one…” at this Stiles reaches behind himself and sticks his forefinger into Derek’s mouth. ”Argent is very discreet. Hell, I didn’t even know he was gay until I saw him fucking your uncle.” Derek gags a bit, maybe at the finger, maybe finally remembering why he’d had Argent’s name file away, and Stiles grins shyly back at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was my finger in too deep?” Derek gives a smart growl as Stiles continues with his list.

“Pro numero dos…” Stiles fills Derek’s mouth with another finger. He feels his nipples begin to harden as Derek’s tongue swirls around his digits coating them with natural lubricant. “Argent is very handsome…” Chris _is_ very handsome. He’s a little shorter than both Stiles and Derek, but he carries himself like he’s the largest man in the room. And if tales of his endowment are true, he very well may be. As a former hunter, Chris has a naturally rough exterior. This, however, is betrayed not only by what’s actually a hopelessly romantic heart, but also his sparkling blue/green eyes that always shine with a hint of vulnerability. If Stiles were really into older men, he could see himself falling for the man. Hard.

“Pro number three…” Stiles sticks his middle finger exclusively in Derek’s mouth, tugging it in and out as Derek sucks it nastily against his tongue. The brief flash of electric eyes and the hungry look Derek gives Stiles is almost enough to make him come right there, but Stiles has other plans.

He hasn’t always been so bold. When he first met Derek he was caught in a battle of him s. His self confidence. His flailiness and inherent self loathing kept him from asking for what he wanted. Derek was easy though, he started fast then he took it slow and once Stiles saw that under the gruff exterior laid a man who didn’t mind someone else taking the reigns, Stiles was only too eager to take the lead. And pull it a little bit roughly.

He leans forward and rubs down Derek’s thigh with his free hand. As he brings it back up he bluntly claws his nails up Derek’s knee and along his inner thigh causing him to moan insatiably.

“Stiles… you little _shit_.” Derek hisses. Stiles smirks to himself knowing his boyfriend’s ticks and kinks. He grasps Derek around the cock and begins to lap up and down the front and side like it’s a bomb pop on the fourth of July. He takes his other hand -the one with the soggy fingers- and massages Derek’s balls with it while casually dropping a finger down to massage his taint.

Derek bucks his hips as though maybe Stiles’ fingers are lost and can’t find their way to his hole. Derek knows it’s Stiles’ own special brand of pleasure denial, but it’s always erotically unsettling. With every frustrating thrust, it seems Stiles would lick Derek’s head much too lightly, and his fingers would wander much too slowly. This was no coincidence.

“Patience, Bear. We’re gonna have a visitor and you just can’t shoot your load at the first site of the guy. Slow down.” Derek bites his bottom lip and tries to keep from bucking but can’t stop his body from instinctively writhing under Stiles. Stiles -of course- is not helping the situation as his somehow still denim-covered ass basically gyrates itself into Derek’s face. The more agitated Derek gets, the more loose Stiles’s hips are.

“Mmm... yes.” He says as he snakes his hand under Derek’s balls and towards his anus. He playfully taps the puckered entrance and smiles widely as Derek opens up like he’s a visiting neighbor with a welcome basket. He’s close, Stiles can tell as precum from Derek’s erection smears against his temple into his hair while he suckles one of Derek’s balls into his mouth.

“Fuck, Stiles! Oh my-!” Derek digs his nails, like claws through the fabric of Stiles’ jeans, scratching down his thighs and massaging roughly back up. He shudders as he feels Stiles’ moan around the sensitive skin of his balls. He buries his face in Stiles’ ass as Stiles brusquely begins to stuff two of his fingers into Derek’s.

Though they’ve done this many times, the fit is tight and hot and Derek’s spit doesn’t provide nearly enough lube. Stiles’s tucks in one finger and begins to twist his hand so one lines the rim and the other explores the walls of Derek’s anus. He leans forward and spits into his man. He can feel Derek clenching at the mostly dry sensation, but slowly he relaxes bit-by-bit, his body naturally begging for more.

Stiles reaches his free hand between them and squeezes his own cock. It’s leaking like a broken faucet and he can feel the growing wetness through the soft denim fabric at his crotch. Stiles removes his fingers from Derek’s ass quickly, ignoring Derek’s whine at the sudden absence. He leans forward, pulling himself off of Derek and effectively away from the dizzying atmosphere he created. He feels lightheaded and ready to let go, but he won’t let himself get too far out of orbit… not yet.

“Derek.” He says breathlessly as he cradles himself in his arms, trying to assuage the disassociation his body is feeling at the absence of his lover’s hold. Derek looks cautiously at Stiles, unsure of how to proceed, wondering if he’d bitten Stiles’s ass too roughly through the jeans or whined too much with the rigid firmness of Stiles’ fingers was so suddenly gone. All he can do is finger himself idly while looking at Stiles’ expression that radiates nothing but pure desire. Stiles exhales and drops his hands to his sides. “Undress me.”

Derek smiles, relieved at first and then quickly cunning and sure. He sits up and shoves off his own jeans before kneeling in front of Stiles, wrapping his arms around the young man’s waist and nosing his crotch. Stiles throws his head back and straddles Derek’s face before reminding himself that this is an exercise in the benefits of patience and waiting for your reward. He composes himself and grabs Derek’s hair, demanding his attention.

“Derek.” He says, firmly yet kindly, “ _Undress_ me.” Derek nods obediently and undoes Stiles’ belt trying his best not to just tear it through the loops and rip the damn things off of Stiles in one fell swoop. He finally removes the belt and carefully works on the button fly.

“Be careful Bear, you know how much I love these jeans.” Derek shakes his head and rolls his eyes slightly as Stiles smiles down at him, “Remember when I found them at that thrift shop? It was the 3rd time we’d “accidentally” run into each other. Remember how I told you I would buy you a shirt that fit because each time we saw each other the ones you wore got smaller and small- _ah_!” Derek didn’t necessarily care for this story and to show it he yanks down the jeans and puts his mouth directly over the head of Stiles’ cock through his briefs. Derek sucks in the precum through the fabric causing it to rub against Stiles' pointed erection. Stiles goes speechless for a moment, his only sounds being moans as he runs his hands over Derek's upper back and shoulders.

Stiles loves to talk, and Derek loves it when Stiles talks. But sometimes, they both love it when Derek shuts him up.

“ _Uggh_ , Bear, wait, we have to go- _uggh_!” Derek was done waiting and he definitely was done going slow. He hauls Stiles up into a fireman carry, hoisting him over his shoulder. With his free hand he pulls Stiles’ jeans the rest of the way off and rips off his shorts, the elastic causing a little snap on Stiles’ calf as they’re yanked away. Stiles gasps at the snap and looks down at his shin where a bruise will begin to form at any moment. Derek should be a little worried about retaliation, but to be honest he’s kind of looking forward to it. Derek always has to work on control when it comes to Stiles, but he also enjoys when Stiles loses some of his own.

He uses both hands and angles Stiles’ weight in such a way that his dick is directly in front of Derek’s mouth if he turns his head. So he does, and swallows as much of Stiles’ cock as the angle will allow. He lifts Stiles above him and hoists his body up and down, pushing his heated cock in and out of his mouth as Stiles braces himself on Derek’s shoulders and suitably loses his damned mind.

There’s something about contemplating the concept of zero gravity as your boyfriend lifts you up and down through the air, sliding your dick between his lips. Something like that is enough to make you a little crazy, a little incomprehensible, a little incoherent. Despite the commonality of Derek’s strength, Stiles old body issues attempt to surface and he tries to tense his body thinking maybe that will relieve some of the weight on Derek, but with every drop into Derek’s orifice he feels a lightning rip of ecstasy blow through his entire self. He slumps a bit hoping it won’t cause Derek to stumble, but Derek stands resolute as he bench presses Stiles’ cock into his mouth.

“Der- _shit_ , don’t… stop…. I mean, _don’t_ stop, I mean- _shit_ Derek fuckin’-” And he’s so close until Derek withdraws him from his mouth and throws him, his body landing lustily on the couch. Without giving Stiles so much as a second to breathe Derek’s ass is on that cock lowering slowly, yet smoothly at first and then quickly bouncing with a feverish non-rhythm as the inside of his ass gets more and more slick with Stiles pre-cum. .

Stiles digs his fingers into Derek’s hips and it’s only a few thrusts before Stiles is coming hot, wet streams into Derek’s welcoming hole. Derek strips himself quickly and begins to come too, ribbons of the white stuff hitting Stiles’ chin and dripping down his neck onto his abdomen. The orgasms between the two are long and the moans and sighs, gratuitous but necessary. Stiles leans his head back against the couch as Derek rests his head against Stiles’ sternum panting heavily while lightly licking the cum from Stiles’ chin. After a moment Stiles’ chuckles lightly as he runs his hands up and down Derek’s back.

“Der _-ek_ , we were supposed to be learning about patience! What will we do when Argent gets here and we’ve already got cum all over the fucking walls?” Stiles whines. Derek shrugs and kisses Stiles sloppily, biting his bottom lip between his teeth. He wraps his arms around Stiles’ neck not yet ready to remove his beloved's cock from inside him. Instead he bucks a little, causing an over sensitive Stiles’ to moan in annoyed delight.

“Don’t worry, hun,” Derek says, finally finding his words with a cocky wink, “We’ll have plenty of time for more practice."


	3. Call of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confident in their new plan, Stiles makes a call that shakes that confidence to its core.

Derek puts together a late lunch in the kitchen, while Stiles sits in their breakfast nook, ponding how to make a call he’s unsure if he even wants to make. He knows this part is necessary and he knows the intended party won’t mind the call, but he also knows that to make the call he’ll have to give up information he wasn’t necessarily ready to.

Stiles has a goal though, and sometimes in order to reach your goals you have to make sacrifices. He dials Scott’s number and waits for the answer.

It only takes Scott’s usual two rings before he answers the phone excitedly,

“Stiles, hey man, it’s so good to hear from you! Hey, what do you know about anal beads because Allison’s really been into playing with my ass lately and I don’t think I can do a dildo, but I heard that might be a good compromise?” Scott rambles off like he’s in the middle of a marathon. Stiles shakes his head, amused at his basically brother and definite best friend. They’ve known each other long enough that all decorum flies out the window when the two get together. Mostly. Scott has a way of always saying hello like it’s been years since you last talked and he was just so excited to hear from you. He also has a way of relying completely on caller ID to see who’s calling and not letting the person get a word in edgewise before just assuming it was them.

Derek has relayed many a story where Scott thought he was asking Stiles about some lube he’d used years ago and it turned out to be Derek. And while a normal person would be embarrassed and learn from these mistakes, Scott simply went on to ask Derek if he knew if that lube was condom safe and did they still sell it at the porn shop the next town over. Stiles adores him.

“Hey Scottie, anal beads are awesome and they come in different sizes depending on your comfort level. Use them with lube though, okay? I’ll send you some links.” He could hear Scott nodding and taking notes on the other end.

“Cool, thanks bro. What’s up? You sound like you need something.” This was Scott’s other gift. To know when a call was just a social call versus a call that needed action taken. Scott was appreciative of either and Stiles was glad because he has a favor to ask.

“I need Argent’s number. I thought I had it from my dad’s phone but evidently he removed the contact or something since they… well, I don’t know Scott. Shit, do you know anything about them having a _past_? And please note that ‘past’ is very much in italics.” This is the part that Stiles’ needed assistance navigating. With Argent, he knew he was sailing on an outdated map and a rusted compass. The man by definition was a set of unreliabble. Stiles has heard rumors, tall tales if you will, but mostly from Peter in regards to feelings that Sheriff Stilinski allegedly harbored for Chris Argent.

“Yeah man, I heard that they had a huge bust up over some past shit. My mom told me about how close Argent and your dad got after your mom… you know-” Scott explained, Stiles knew. “But then I guess Peter came into the picture and fucked shit up though she said it was short lived because soon after, Argent and Victoria got back together. Argent decided having his family was more important and Peter disappeared for like, fucking ever. He just got back, right? But then again so did Argent.”

The thought of his dad having feelings for Argent some time ago didn’t really dissuade Stiles but the involvement of Derek’s uncle Peter Hale nearly did. Stiles knows Peter and Argent are on again/off again lovers and he may know that Peter has some feelings about the times they are “off again”. Peter just had a way of fucking things up and the only reason he’s been tolerable lately is because he’s been living out of the city. San Francisco, Stiles knows because that’s where Derek sends holiday cards (and also Stiles would be damned if he didn’t lojack Peter’s jag).

“Scott, what does he do to cause so much trouble?” Stiles asks somewhat absently. Peter gets under his skin like no other, but he wonders about his bad behavior through the ages? How far does someone have to go to be “off again” and why on earth would you let them be “on again” _again_? “Like, I always hear about Peter _fucking shit up_ , but I never hear about what he actually does.” He hears Scott huff on the line.

“Dude, I don’t have a fucking clue. You know with Peter it’s probably some psychological bullshit. Either way, I say just err on the side of caution and avoid him. Why do you need Argent’s number anyway? Are you and Derek planning to fuck him?” Stiles wasn’t drinking anything but he still sputters at Scott’s bluntness.

“How the _fuck-_ ” Before he can get anymore out, Scott cuts him off with a laugh.

“Well first off, dude, you don’t know, but your voice changes when you’ve been properly fucked. I’m guessing Derek gave it to you good and then you started talking about bringing in a third because you can’t help but chase that high! And what else would you need to ask Argent that you couldn’t ask me or Allison to find out for you? And don’t think that just because this is funny as shit, I’m not a bit offended that you didn’t choose me to third with you.” Scott finishes, and there’s a lengthy pause as Stiles tries to process Scott’s crazy jumble of words, finally deciding to tackle the least pressing issue first.

“Scott, you were actually first on Derek’s list -which I think we need to have a talk about- “ Scott snorts as Stiles rolls his eyes and continues, “but we decided against you because you just got back with Allison and I know you don’t want to mess that up.” Stiles can sense Scott relaxing on the other line.

“Yeah, thanks bro, that’s really sweet of you, but hell it still would have been good to ask. I’m sure Ally and I will be in breakup mode soon enough, I’m just enjoying it while it lasts until she thinks she needs to leave me again. And then I’ll be somber until she comes back and who knows? Then I might need a good homosexual three-way with my best friend and his hairy ass boyfriend.”

Stiles chuckles, “He’s got the appropriate amount of hair, Scott.”

“He’s got more than his fair share, dude. In his eyebrows alone, those things are lethal!”

Stiles laughs again, but can’t help but feel a little wistful for his friend. Although he’s keeping the mood light, he knows Allison’s fickleness about commitment bothers the hell out of Scott. Scott’s loyal almost to a fault and he’s always there when she comes back. Stiles has to remind himself sometimes that he can’t hate Allison when his friend loves her so much, but he hates hearing Scott like this.

“Allison is a lot like her dad in that way.” Scott says, suddenly contemplative, “They’re so used to being guarded and hiding their emotions that they become like, awkward turtles. They peek out and then when shit gets too real they shell back up. I know we keep hearing it was just a crush, bro, but piecing together the bits of what I’ve heard, it sounds like your dad and Argent were _very_ close to being real and then Victoria… well, you know.” Stiles nods even though Scott can’t hear, but he’s always had a unnerving quality for just knowing. He continues, “With Victoria gone I just get the impression that something happened.”

“Peter happened, Scott.” Stiles sighs, he’s still missing a lot of details, but he knows somehow that he’s right. And he’s wondering if it’s worth the trouble anymore. Scott waits a beat as if pondering the conclusion before continuing.

“Yeah, I think… I think your dad asked Argent to choose and Argent chose.” Scott hums gently on the other line.

“He fucking chose Peter.” Suddenly an anger falls over Stiles like a wave and he feels his cock slightly swell. He squeezes it lightly.

“I know angry sex is part of the appeal of Argent-” Scott says as Stiles curses himself and his ring finger for not adding that to the original list, “-so you know, if you take that energy into it you’ll definitely get your fill, but please don’t do it more than once and don’t get your emotions involved. You might wanna talk to your dad before going forward, bro. I think you need to know just how far they went. Are you gonna be fucking the dude he had a heart boner for, or are you gonna be full blown eskimo brothers… with you _dad_!”

Stiles cackles, and he can hear Scott laugh on the other line,

“I’m serious, dude! Argent’s dick is a magic wand and his ass must be stuffed with unicorn glitter because everyone that bangs him goes crazy!” Stiles laughs at Scott’s analysis of some of the reasons he still wants to go through with the threesome despite all the corresponding bullshit that’s happening even though he still wouldn’t contribute that all to Argent.

“See, Scottie? My dad is perfectly sane so it means they didn’t fuck, right? And Peter was probably already crazy so I’m sure that Argent aided and abetted, he wasn’t the main catalyst for that one. I think we’ll be in the clear.” Derek brings Stiles a drink and sits beside him. He points and waves at the phone and Stiles nods. “Thanks man, you’re really intuitive about this shit and it’s helpful. I know I should just walk away, but I’m addicted to the challenge now. This is fucking happening dude. Also, Derek says hi.” He can hear Scott rustling through some papers.

“Hi, Derek! And yeah, I know dude, do you. You gotta pen?”

Stiles finishes up with Scott and then looks at the paper with Argent’s number. He knows this number, but the last time he saw it, it was labeled “DNA”.

“Stiles?” Stiles looks up and sees Derek watching him with a cocked brow.

“Why didn’t you tell Scott what you know about dad and Argent?”

Stiles looks back at the paper. What does he know about dad and Argent.  A whole hell of a lot more that he told Scott. More than he should admit to himself, probably. He’s heard most of it from Peter which is how he please the plausible deniability of being cajoled by an unreliable narrator.  It would be during late nights when Peter would be visiting his nephew. Stiles’ insomnia would lead him to the guest room where Peter was waiting with a bottle of Glen McKenna, two glasses and what he deemed as words from the wise.

“ _One time your dear father made an inquiry of Christophe as to whether he preferred fatty ground chuck or choice, lean top sirloin. So went to the dollar store, bought every pack of Steakums they had and shoved them in his tail pipe.”_

Peter had laughed, a cold, bourbon soaked laughed steeped in bitterness with just a touch of regret at the end.

“ _That was before he and Tori go together. After she died your dad tried to get me out of the picture again. Said I was a bad influence, can you even imagine?”_

Stiles could and he poured the sentimental man another drink.

“ _Your dad was a persistent son of a bitch. Christophe chooses me time and time again and yet that man kept trying. Much like with you and my nephew. You’re a lot like your dad in that way, Stiles.”_

_“I got my man.”_ Is all Stiles said at the time. His own brain was soaked, sloshy with the effort of trying to keep pace with a sociopath who had a trained liver.

_“That you did. And I got your dad’s.”_ For some reason Peter picked this time to cheers to Stiles and for some other reason, Stiles reciprocated, clinking his glass inelegantly against Peter’s and downing the brown liquid, letting the burn consume the rage inside of him until he was finally sleepy enough to pass out.

He looks back at Derek and shrugs,

“Allison was there. Scott didn’t say anything, but I know she was, he got quieter when he started talking about Argent’s rainbow ass.”

Derek grins slyly and shakes his head. Then he taps Stiles on the back of his hand. ‘Still wanna do this?’ he asks simply, though the question holds a lot of weight. Stiles nods.

“Definitely.” He got the information he needed and now it was time to put the plan into place. Derek winks at him.

“Good, come to lunch.” he says, cocking his head towards the kitchen. Stiles stands and walks over to his man, kissing him sweetly before following him into the other room. As he eats, he wonders briefly if they’ll be able to pull this off? He doesn’t know exactly what led to his dad finally dropping Argent, but knows it wasn’t good. Could he go through with this and come out unscathed?

He feels oddly obligated to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter coming tonight!


	4. Bad Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argent reminisces.

Chris Argent’s love life was messy to say the least. He’d always been a fiercely private man, but hopelessly public when it came to love. He needed his lovers to be open, to be vulnerable in a way he could never achieve himself. He often needed his lovers to choose him, which, while this wasn’t hard given the man Chris was on the surface, it did present a challenge. When someone… or some _twos_ ‘chose’ Chris, it made it so that a decision had to be made, and this is where Chris Argent had… _has_ the most trouble.

With Victoria, the choice of family was easy in that it wasn’t so much a choice as much as an obligation. He had a legacy to continue and he kept himself so busy with carrying out the traditions of his family, it was very easy to consider it something he wanted. After Tori died things began to get a little more sticky. Argent was presented with another choice and his bad decision has been biting him in the ass ever sense.

Though not always unpleasantly.

Argent hung up the phone, amused by the prospect just lain before him. He wonders idly if Stiles really doesn’t know the depth of the relationship shared with Sheriff Stilinski. Then Argent remembers it’s Stiles, so of course he knows, and he still called to ask Argent to threesome with them.

Could it be a trap? Argent can’t imagine the offense. Stiles and Derek are well of age and and neither one of them has been accused of any kind of innocence as far as Argent can tell. No, Argent thinks it must be pure. Stiles wants them to fuck and for some reason, the idea that Stiles _knows_ , makes Argent all the more eager to participate. He should want to make things right with the sheriff, and he does, especially after the way he left things. He’d try reaching out when he’d moved back, but the beleaguered man was currently ducking his calls. Maybe, just maybe, he could do this as a sort of penance?

Damn, he’s been with Peter for too long if he thinks that makes any damned sense at all, but he can’t shake it. He’s changed, Peter has changed him, and while it may not necessarily be for the best, it is who he is. Who he wants to be. Who he wants to be with, thought a part of him still pines for the sheriff. So yes, in his own way, he will be making amends with the Sheriff, and he’ll use Stiles’ ass to do it.

He gave them out an out, of course. Told them to call back in an hour or so if they really wanted to go through with it. Just in case they got caught up in the fantasy and forgot about the very broken, jilted reality of the thing. Chris snorts to himself, in all of this justification about making amends, he wonders about the night that ended it all, like it’s something that could ever be repaired...

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Chris? I mean, really? You’re fucking kidding, right?!” Sheriff John Stilinski paced the room with one hand menacingly on his firearm. Yes, it was strapped in its holster and the safety was on, Chris noted, knowing John was really just holding it as a coping mechanism, but it didn’t make Chris any less nervous about their current predicament.

“You gotta calm down man, c’mon-” Argent tried to stand in front of the sheriff to show the peace sign in his eyes, but the other party in the room was making it difficult to hold the sheriff’s attention.

“It would _behove_ you to calm yourself, John, wouldn’t want to burst _another_ hernia now would we?” Peter Hale’s smile held it’s usual expression - somewhere between a smirk and a glower. He was slightly bemused by the scene, but Chris could see the facade was fading.

The sheriff’s look veered past annoyance and settled back into pure hatred territory which is where things generally lied when it came to Peter. This time he put emotion into action and barrelled towards Peter who didn’t show any signs of flinching. John reached the man and poked an accusatory finger into his chest.

“Fuck you, Peter! Where did you come from anyway? Why are you even here?” John looked back at Chris with pleading eyes, gesturing towards Peter. “Is _this_ what you want, babe?” Chris cringed at the one term of endearment he could never get used to from Sheriff. He was used to “kid” or sometimes “hunter” or his kinky fave ‘deputy’, but “babe” was so… _domestic_. So out of place. Sheriff never even called his wife _babe_ , she was always “Sweetie” or “Sugar Pie”. Maybe that’s what it was? That babe just seemed so… generic, too comfortable without being intimate?

“You want someone so flighty that they’ll just flit in and out of your life making sure you’re never stable, never satisfied?” John pleaded with Chris, trying to get him to see the man in front of him and the love he held for him inside. Peter sneered at the sheriff, relishing in the second hand embarrassment he felt as the poor man laid out his soul.

“Or do you want a boring, _nearly_ geriatric man who has Viagra prescriptions older than me?” Peter quipped as he stood leaning casually against the mantel, feigning an air of nonchalance. The sheriff, on his third round of “fed up” went to close the space between he and Peter, but Chris stood in his way.

“Sheriff please! Just-” Argent glanced behind him quickly sizing up Peter’s nosiness and leaned into John lowering his voice, “Come on Johnny, come on, listen to your deputy.” Chris winked, but soon cringed as this moment of almost placidity was ruined by Peter’s incessant.. _Peterness_.

“Your deputy? _Fuuuck_ Chris, why do I even bother?” Peter rolled his eyes, though the hitch in his voice belied his coolness. Chris began to grow concerned. This was Peter’s version of chivalry, of… _fighting_ for Chris. He often wondered why Peter bothered, and wondered more why he wanted him to, why he needed it so badly. That was probably what made the predicaments of the heart that Chris got himself into so frustrating.

Sheriff loved him and they fit. Sheriff was good to him and they were solid and stable, protectors first and foremost, they believed in stability and caring for their loved ones. Chris never had to worry if John would leave him or worse, because he knew John was in love with him _unconditionally_. He was loyal to a fault and true to his word, so why couldn’t Chris just say yes to him? Why did he prefer to shack up with the type of predator he’d spent his life hunting?

“You’re a real piece of _shit_ , you know that, Peter?! How dare you come back here and sew your seeds of discontent!” John yelled at Peter with the fire crackling in his eyes. Chris put his hand on Sheriff’s chest and looked back at Peter who was flipping the sheriff off with one hand and taking out his dick the next to piss into the fire. Both men watched incredulously and suddenly Chris knew the answer that well, he’d always really known, but he would never admit to it ever. Not because he couldn’t believe it, but because it was so simple and so bluntly true and so disgusting that he didn’t know how to process it.

Peter? Was _FUN_. Wicked, _dangerous_ fun.

“John please,” Chris begged the sheriff, despite the man pissing in his fireplace, “please just stop and calm down!” John could see the seriousness in Chris’ eyes; he took a step back, mystified.

“You’re defending him, Chris? Really?” Chris sighed heavily and looked down, but the sheriff cupped his chin peering directly into what Chris felt like was left of his soul. “You know this so called _man_ has done nothing but fuck you over and-” over and over and fucked him inside and out and sometimes he let Chris tie him up and spank him when he'd been especially bad. Then there was that time they went to the Dominican, snuck into a family friendly resort and Peter rode him on the beach while there was a luau not 100 feet away. Or the time that they skydived and Peter tried to suck Argent’s cock in the middle of the air - with the instructors tethered to their backs.

“-pissing in your fucking fireplace like a damned animal and you’re trying to plead to me? Grow a fucking backbome, Chris, start making sense!”

Chris knew that it didn't make sense. None of it did, but he knows what he wanted. He loved the sheriff, but their most passion driven moments were those when sheriff was complaining about Peter. Peter possessed this kind of drama naturually. Those moments of spontaneity and feeling alive? These things were something Chris could never get with John… _would_ never get with him, and they were things that his newly conditioned sense of self couldn’t help but want. His mind tells him he was crazy, but his body _craves_.

He knew with Peter he would have a list of sacrifices to make; his reputation, his connections, his goals. With the sheriff he had everything to gain, in fact the only thing he would lose… was Peter.

He didn’t know if he could.

Argent thinking about that fateful night started with a call from Stiles and Derek, but is punctuated when he starts to look through an old photo album with pictures of him, John, Victoria and Claudia. He can’t believe it’s been so long and that so much has changed since that time. One picture in particular featured the home where the last fight happened. When sheriff left, and Peter went crazy, he married Victoria and they lived in that house for years. John never came over.

Ever since Chris was born his future was planned out for him. At 18 he made his first gun sale and then he was promised to be married to Victoria O’Reilly. The O’Reilly’s were an important family to be allies with and their strong, Amazon-like daughter with the shock of red hair was just what the Argents needed to energize their bloodline. Argent delayed the marriage for as long as he could, citing that he wanted to graduate and get established before settling down. His family gave him a wide berth, but after the first rejection of the Sheriff (who ended up maryying Claudia Gajos) and falling out with Peter (who tried to kill his sister, though she definitely deserved it), he married and was… well, not _unhappy_ -more like compliant- for years.

He and Tori had a baby and moved around a lot, only settling for a few years in San Francisco before moving back to Beacon Hills. They were home for under a year before Victoria was killed. When Tori died, Argent was crushed. It was a thoughtless accident, she was attacked in the woods by a rabid animal on the Hale land. Argent’s nerves were decimated when the call came and suddenly he found himself a single parent. That was the strange thing though, the constant; Argent never considered himself a widower, just a single father. That’s not to say he didn’t love Victoria, he did- they’d been together for 18 years and had a gorgeous daughter. But when she died, he didn’t regret anything more than Allison not having her mother. He grieved losing a partner, but never a lover.

Victoria knew of Argent’s preferences and decided that instead of enemies they would work better as friends. She only went into him to make sure they had a baby and to keep up the appearance of a strong, happy couple. And they were, becoming an unstoppable team and bringing pride back to the Argent name. Chris knew Allison was next to carry that legacy and with Victoria as her guide it left Chris with time to read and write, and yearn. Peter tracked them down a couple of times while in San Francisco. And sure, later back in Beacon Hills. They were discreet and they were only interrupted once by John’s son, Stiles. Chris pretended not to notice Stiles’ intrusion and Stiles never brought it up.

About a year after Tori died, Chris began to miss her, or at least what it was like to have a companion. He missed the laughing movie nights and the smell of someone else in his space and in his area. The things he so openly hated the first years of his marriage, he now missed so much it caused him to ache. He used to revel in his independence and now he despised it. He missed connecting and nuzzling and cuddling and everything else that turned “me” into “we”.

So when he got a call from a familiar law enforcement officer he jumped at the chance at company and friendship. After John kissed him at his car in the parking lot of a seedy bar, Argent began to dream about being with someone again. Someone that could love him the way he remembered and now that he’d come to terms with his proclivities, someone who could love him so much better. They spent about 2 weeks together when Peter found him again, ready to start up where he and Argent had left off. The problem with this line/lack of logic is “where they’d left off” was in the middle of more of Peter’s bullshit and Argent’s marriage.

That was of no consequence to Peter, he treated Argent’s heart like some forgotten dry cleaning that he’d just found the ticket to. And fuck if Argent wasn’t ready to be collected. The argument that fateful night didn’t happen because somehow Peter changed, becoming a better man who wanted to love Chris. But instead because Argent didn’t change, and he remained completely infatuated with the human manifestation of this siren.

Everything with John was good, _great_ even! The movie nights, the makeout sessions, the cuddling, the talking and everything in between. So when Peter arrived Argent should have blamed him, but instead he welcomed him. Shit, he fucked him the first time he saw him. In the bathroom of some shitty little gas station. It was gross and John was texting him funny memes while he was at work and he was fucking Peter in the _Kum & Go_ and slapping his ass with the paddle that was attached to the bathroom key.

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Over the next week he broke up with John and started to see Peter who was staying at his house. The sheriff came over, not willing to give up without a fight.

Chris wrenched his chin out of the sheriff’s grip and slowly walked towards the door.

“Peter and I are lovers now, John. I can’t let you come in and disrespect him like-” John laughed heartily and obviously, shaking his head.

“Your lover? Your love- I thought. I thought I was your lover.” John whined pitifully, probably sure he was already beaten. Chris could barely stand to look at the sheriff, it hurt so badly. So instead he watched the fire as it smoked and attempted to reignite in the brief silence.

“I love you, John. And I guess I’ll always love you. You know that, please don’t turn this into something it’s not.” Chris fought back the tears welling in his eyes, the smoke of burnt piss stinging them.

“Something it’s _not,_ Chris? The only something that it’s _not,_ is complicated! Hard, hurtful. That’s what being with Peter _is_ , and you know that.” John argued. Peter pretended to wince in pain at the statement, pantomiming wiping tears from his face while giving Stilinski the bird. Chris tried to plead with Peter using his eyes, but Peter always acted so oblivious. Maybe that was part of the appeal as well, the inability to control Peter. What do you do with a man who has only crazy thoughts and won’t listen to reason? You love him.

“I’ve always had it easy, John. Maybe I’d like something complicated. Maybe it’s what I deserve.” Chris looked at John as John watched Argent’s bright blue eyes dance in the flicker. He then stole a sideways glance at Peter who was casually flipping through a _Details_ fashion issue mag and Chris saw him fill with so much rage, he was sure the sheriff couldn’t even see straight. Chris knew that look, it was the look of a man who would stop at nothing until he laid hands on Peter Hale and that’s what the sheriff intended to do.

As he lunged forward, Peter quickly scampered away towards the door, he rolled the magazine and shook it menacingly at the sheriff. John was locked in and ready to pounce, but thwarted by a strong, sure arm wrapping itself around his neck and throwing him down onto the nearest couch.

“No more of this shit tonight, Sheriff! Not tonight!” The sheriff pushed Argent away and stood up but decided against going after Peter again. He looked at Argent with a pain that was becoming increasingly familiar. John gathered himself and faced his heart, his former love; easily towering over the man who’d created a barrier between him and Peter.

"I've been with you through everything, kid, and I can be that for you - _everything_. Why would you choose that _thing_ over me?” The sheriff implored as Peter scoffed at them. “I can make you so happy. Isn't that worth it over every type of so called thrill he claims to give you?" Chris braced himself as John grabbed his forearm pushing him back across the room and away from Peter. The heat from the fire came closer only intensifying the burning between them. John pulled Argent close and whispered deep and roughly into his ear.

"Mmm, my deputy, I know you can feel it. I know you can feel this heat between us and it's not just the fire." John snaked an arm around Chris’ waist and pulled him in allowing him to inhale the mixture of cologne and sheer _want_ that seeped from Stilinkski's pores. Chris nearly swooned as the sheriff held him close. This was the part of Sheriff that he was most comfortingly acquainted with. The part that took charge and would always take care of him, making all the decisions and ensuring that Argent was satisfied.

"Who loves you, kid? I know you can't lie, so you'll tell me the truth. Who loves you? Who's so in love with you? Who cherishes every part of you? Who wishes every day that you’d love him the way he loves you?” John looked at Argent with certainty in his eyes as he stroked his face lovingly. Argent knew then that he was supposed to be with one man, and that one man was the man who loved him most of all.

“Oh, John.” Chris smiled weakly and leaned in to kiss him. It was lightly at first, then deeper and more passionate as the two explored each other’s mouths like it was the first time… or perhaps the last. He threw his arms around the sheriff’s waist who accepted the kiss, gripping Chris’s biceps, breaking it only to come up for air. Chris looked sorrowfully into John’s eyes which held a distant glimmer of hope… and desperation. Chris knew his lifestyle was one that held promise to extinguish that glimmer and he’d wanted to avoid that scenario at all costs. The sheriff nuzzled his neck, humming against the weathered skin.

“I want to hear you say it, my deputy. Who loves you, who _needs_ you?” John asked. Chris leaned back again to see that glimmer in John’s eyes. He moved his hands up and held the sheriff by his shoulders close to his body, as he watched Peter watching him over John’s shoulder. His look held the sort of manic patience that Peter was known for. Chris could see him forming lists of scenarios behind his eyes as he was ready to grab an option and run with it depending on Chris’s next move. He’d fucking kill someone if he had to, or maybe he’d just talk reasonably? Suggest a threesome even. This Russian roulette style of decision making did Chris in every time. He knew what he had to do, as he put that glimmer out once and for all.

“Who loves you, Chris. I want to hear you say it. Tell me, kid, my sweet, sweet deputy. Who loves you?” Chris leaned into the sheriff’s ear and whispered calmly and finitely.

“He does.”

***~~~***

“Christophe? Are you okay?” Peter walks into the room where Chris is sitting on the floor with one of the albums still in his hand. He looks wearily up at Peter who is watching him carefully.

“I got a very interesting call.” Chris answers. Peter looks at the album and kneels in front of Chris, pulling it gently from his hands. He opens it up and blanches slightly on a picture of the past foursome.

“Oh? Something that triggered a trip down memory lane?” Peter asks as he places the album aside and crawls until he’s straddling Argent’s lap.

“It was your nephew’s lover.” Chris says as he plays with Peter’s deep v-neck collar, dragging his finger along the slightly ruined collar. Peter rolls his eyes.

“Stiles? I’d thought we’d be rid of the Stilinskis once you dumped John, but-” Peter stops as Argent tugs at his collar and braces his hand around Peter’s neck in warning. Peter shocks slightly, but then winks and smirks at Chris.

“Careful, Peter.” Argent says simply. Peter puts both hands up.

“So sensitive, Christophe? I just meant that life isn’t always necessary with their certain brand of frenetic energy, that’s all. Though I’ve come to tolerate junior, he’s far less pragmatic. What did he want?” Peter asks as he begins to place soothing kisses on Argent’s neck.

“He wants me to fuck him and Derek.” Argent says tepidly, testing the waters. Peter sits up quickly and stares into Argent’s eyes.

“Doesn’t he know that we’re together? I know the younger Stilinski is hardly as morally scrupulous as the senior, but I’d think fidelity was important to him. Especially since he assumes it’s the only reason Derek hasn’t left him. And what about his dad? Seems in bad taste to want to fuck his former lover.” Peter tries to appear noncommittal, but Argent knows his tells well. Knows that he’s hating this. Argent pushes.

“Does anyone know we’re together, Peter?”

Peter rolls his eyes again, and then his hips, specifically against Argent’s thigh.

“And I don’t think he knows how serious it was with his dad. Just that we were close to being a thing and John has avoided me like the plague ever since.”

“Close to being a thing? Close like he always got _close_ to your prostate, but could never quite-”

“Peter!”

“Who are you fooling, Christophe? What did you say when they asked?” Peter asks, with one hand suddenly thrust into Argent’s fly, the back of his knuckles grazing against his erection. Argent couldn’t help but notice how much of a Peter situation this was. The son of his former lover, but also Peter’s nephew wants him to inhabit their bed. There was no way it was a good idea and Argent should just have to think of a way to say no. He valued his relationship with Peter and didn’t want anything to jeopardize it.

“I told them Friday at 10pm.” He lies into Peter’s sparkling eyes. They’re grey today, matching his soft grey tee. Peter cocks his head and then slithers back until he’s laying on the floor with his head in Argent’s lap. Peter removes Argent gently from his pants and gives a lick to his head. He looks up at Argent through his lashes.

“Be sure to give the boys my regards.”

Argent throws his head back as Peter takes his length deep into his throat. HIs hips buck, but it doesn’t deter the man, only seems to egg him on. Argent opens his eyes and watches the ceiling and wonders if the boys will call him back.


	5. The Call pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a free call, but somehow the boys still end up paying...

"Are you ready, Bear?" Stiles asks as he gently massages the tension away from Derek's shoulders. Derek is laying on the couch with the phone on his chest as they contemplate returning Argent’s call. 

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I don't mind going through with this, but are we sure Argent isn't going to make it weird? You’re already freaked out about the stuff with dad and-" Stiles shuts his eyes waving his hands in the air as if shooing away some unwanted fly.

"Ok, first off, we can't _ever_ even mention my dad, ok?" Derek looks up at Stiles and nods while grasping his hand. "Secondly, I'm... kinda counting on that weird energy being a plus if you know what I mean." Derek's brow furrows a bit in confusion, but he knows when Stiles has a plan, it’s best to go along with it.

"Alright, so here we go." Derek excitedly punches in the numbers and just as he’s about to press _call_ , Stiles grabs the phone and tosses it across the room. Derek laughs, relieved that it just falls on a pile of blankets. He looks at Stiles who’s staring off into the middle distance exuding equal parts of frustration and fear.

"I, I'm sorry, I don't know why... I-" Derek stands up and gathers Stiles in his arms, clasping his mouth on Stiles’ neck and sucking the skin there deeply. He reaches down and massages Stiles' ass as Stiles runs his hands through Derek's thick locks of luscious raven colored hair. 

"Now imagine, little red” Derek whispers as Stiles snorts at the moniker, “If I were doing this to you, and Argent came up behind you, pressing his hardness into your thigh, rubbing his hands up and down and your thighs while I massage your chest." Derek reaches up and tweaks Stiles’ nipples through his shirt causing the young man to whimper. He peers into Stiles' wantan eyes. "Look at you, you want this so badly don't you?" 

Stiles doesn’t nod, he doesn’t need to, he just collects himself and sits down in a swivel chair nearby while Derek goes to retrieve the phone. He lies back on the couch and once again dials Argent’s number, this time without interference. It’s answered on the first ring.

“Hey Argent, it’s Derek, how are you?” Derek spits out just on the manic side of cheery. Stiles begins biting at his nails and Derek has to reach over to still his knee. He hears a light chuckle on the other line.

“I know who this is, Derek, it’s good to hear from you boys. I’m glad you called. How have you been?” Argent answers. Derek breathes a sigh of relief; Chris sounds in good enough spirits.

“I’m really well, thanks for asking. Hey, so I know Stiles mentioned _something_ to you earlier and I was wondering if you had a moment to talk.”

“I always have time for you, Derek. We’ve been through a lot haven’t we?” Argent answers with a light chuckle. Derek smirks remembering the short time he and Chris have been friends and the longer, more memorable time when they weren't. Their families were involved in many a fracas resulting in the two having a Hatfield and McCoy-style relationship. One of the Hales (read: Peter) were responsible for trying to setup a deadpool to take out supernaturals ending in a lot of collateral civilian damage that the Argents felt the need to clean up. This outburst was spurred by some of the Argents (admittedly not Chris) trying to burn down the Hale home with many of them still inside. Thankfully both events were mostly unsuccessful, but the hatred between the two remained. It was actually Stiles that brought the two foes together. 

One night long ago before they were an item, Stiles managed to drive his jeep off the road and suddenly disappear. He was out looking for Scott who was lost in the woods. Scott couldn’t handle the thought of his best friend just disappearing into thin air because of him and corralled both Derek (whose family owned the land) & Argent (whose family surveyed it, much to the Hale’s annoyance) to go and find him. Both were hunters in their own rites and had differing methods for trying to get their prey. 

Though the two claimed to still hate each other, Scott reminded them that Stiles was more important than their feud. Scott informed Derek that all the research he’d taken credit for was actually Stiles’ doing. And he informed Argent that while Stiles didn’t have any immediate ties to Argent, he was Scott’s best friend and Scott was banging his only daughter. Derek remembers Argent nearly lunging at Scott at this confession but he stopped shortly as Scott stood unmoved and sure in his cause. Derek & Argent worked together and found where Stiles -miraculously intact- was dragged to a coyote den a few hundred feet from the crash. 

After disposing of the rather territorial she-coyote, they rescued Stiles and the sheer fantastic nature of the thing caused both men to reevaluate their feud and let bygones be. 

“Yeah we have. I’ve saved your ass more times than I can count.” Derek says cheekily, not one to pass up on a moment to rib Chris, even in this time of peace. Chris is just as quick to take advantage. 

“Funny that? You’ve saved my life, but couldn’t be assed to save my number.” Chris quips. 

“Oh you can’t blame me for that, Argent. After that time I tried to set you on fire, I lost my phone and couldn’t transfer the numbers to the new one. And you _never_ called.” 

Though Derek and Chris got along well, they couldn’t extend the truce to the entire family, so while they were cordial, there was still a long ways to go. It seemed though, that both men were willing to set aside the feud once again for Stiles. 

Stiles snorts at what a little shit Derek could be when he wanted, he’s sure he’s to blame and he’s more than a little proud. He knows Chris appreciates it too and can tell the man is smiling on the other end.

“Oh, is Stiles there with you?” Chris asks perkily upon hearing the younger man’s chortle.

“Yeah, I have you on speaker if that’s okay, he’s the arbiter of this plan so I figured he should be here.” Derek winks at Stiles who sticks his tongue out at him. 

Argent says something that both of them miss; Derek frowns slightly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, _what can I do for you_? Derek." Chris repeats. 

Derek starts cautiously before deciding to throw all caution to the wind. "Oh, well I don't know how to go about this exactly." 

Stiles sits up straight in his chair watching Derek intensely on the couch. He wonders what’s going through Derek’s head. He trusts Derek, of course, but they hadn’t really planned for this. 

“Look, shit, let’s just-” Derek looks at Stiles and shrugs, “We wanna fuck!” 

Stiles gapes and puts his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide, staring at the phone, waiting for a reaction. There’s silence on the other end of the line and Derek speaks up again. 

“Bu- but I also know that there’s some outside forces that could influence that in a way that might not be beneficial to our... _throupling_. Forces like, oh I don’t know… Peter?”

Stiles looks at Derek surprised. He was sure Derek was going to mention his dad, but never even considered that Peter and Argent were still a conversation topic, or that Derek would think to ask. Argent hadn’t blown his brains out yet, so Stiles assumed Peter was no longer in the picture. Shit, this might be enough to fuck things up. He had his own list of hard no’s, but he hadn’t wondered what was on Derek’s list. Was he going to call the whole thing off if Peter and Argent were still together? 

“I know you two have a past, but I’m not really sure about your present. And I.. _we_ , need to make sure that’s resolved before continuing. So... should I feign ignorance and pretend I don’t know about you and Peter while slowly steering the conversation towards that topic, or do I jump in and demand that you tell me everything at once?" 

Stiles can’t help but be impressed at his wolf’s cunning and bravado. Derek throws him a victorious wink.

It’s short lived. 

"You do neither, Derek. You shut up, and you listen." Argent says -not coldly- on the other line. Derek wags concerned eyebrows at Stiles who gives him an ‘ _easy boy_ ’ gesture and leans forward in his chair to listen.

"I think this is it, Derek. I think I finally have him this time. And it's a shift, man, you know? Because for years I thought that the more I gave up, the closer he would get to me, but all this time, it wasn't my thing, it was _his_. He's the one that had to let go. I think of all the friends and relationships I've cut off for him, and how it's all fucking worth it now, because he's mine. Finally, he's mine." Chris rambles causing Derek to grow wary and a little bit sad.

"Shit, Chis, for Peter? That sounds a little sick."

"It's fucking _disgusting_ , but it's real this time. The last time - did I ever tell you about that?"

"The last time what? About what?" Derek absentmindedly reaches for Stiles who takes his hand, massaging it between his palms.

"The last straw. The final thing that I had to give up to convince him, to make him stay with me. I thought it wouldn’t work, but it did. Now I see that it did."

"Chris, hey, slow down, back up. What did you give up?"

"Not what, _who_.” Argent sighs, letting out the breath in stuttered, manic whuffs, “John, Derek! Of course it was John."

"John? You mean Stilinski? You were fu- you were _dating_ Sheriff Stilinski?" Derek can’t look at Stiles even though he knows Stiles is also avoiding his gaze. He just squeezes his lover’s hand and listens for Argent’s answer.

"Yes, the sheriff, the senior Stilinski. We’d known each other for a while when I was going to school here and reconnected after dear Claudia passed away. She was amazing Stiles, I know that you know.” Stiles nods even though he knows Argent can't see him. “Victoria and I were living in San Francisco at the time and I tried to convince your dad to come up. Thankfully, he declined. I didn’t realize at the time what a bad idea that was. How selfish I was. After Tori died we tried again but Peter was there… well, he never really left, he never really leaves. Peter.. well, you know Peter is fucked up right? You know most of the shit he's done?" Argent continues to explain erratically. Derek finally makes eye contact with Stiles and shakes his head. 

Being Peter's favorite nephew (and only nephew) should have made Derek the primary witness to Peter's shenanigans. The thing about his uncle that most people didn't quite understand is that Peter wanted to be a hero to Derek, so he hid a lot of his personal faults from the boy. He would spend the bulk of his day faluting for Derek, but at night he would bundle himself in Chris’ arms and bemoan the fact that he had to covertly tie up these ends that he was responsible for loosening in the first place. Because of this, Derek actually knew very little of the shit Peter did. In fact, for Derek, Peter's drama involves the craziness that happens because of him simply being. He knew little in detail of what it was he actually did to incite such madness.

"I've heard little things here and there.” Derek says, obviously lying. He tries to change the subject. “Hey Chris, can you tell me about the times he left? Where did he go? Why did he leave?" Derek sits up a little holding the phone to his chest. Stiles sits back and makes mental notes while this play goes on before him. He hears Chris sigh.

"His time away from me doesn't matter. He wasn’t gone for long, just a few years after I got married and moved, and then you know… another 4 or 5 years here and there, off and on. Never too long."

"That sounds like a long-"

"It was never too long. Well, that’s not true, it was always too fucking long, every damned minute was too long, but looking back, now that he’s mine? It was okay. Hindsight is 20/20, right? Besides, it was just his little way of fucking with me, trying to prove to himself that he didnt love me. He thinks love makes him weak, and it does, but he doesn't understand why that's okay. The last time, after John left-" 

Derek lies back defeated and confused.

"After John left after _what_? Argent what are you talking about? I was asking about Peter, if he was going to make trouble for what we have planned with you." Derek can’t help but feel a little deceived. He thought Chris’ demeanor was pleasant, but really they'd caught him in the eye of a Peter mind hurricane. Chris chuckles slightly then stills.

"This will be candid, I know you can handle that. It’s all related and there’s a reason it all matters. So be a good boy and do as I said: Shut up and listen." 

Derek looks over at Stiles wondering if he should maybe just hang up, but Stiles shakes his head. Chris seems to know when this transaction is over and starts with his story.

"John is a good man, he was born that way, built that way. To serve and protect was not just his motto, but his way of life. He knew my family and knew what they wanted me to do for them… what they wanted me to give up. He also knew I wanted to get out and even had a plan for us to run away together. I’d go to school at William Mary while John went to the academy at Quantico. Did you know your father had a dream to go to the FBI, Stiles?” Stiles knew it was a dream that became abandoned when his parents found out Stiles was on the way. He never knew it was something his dad had pursued before meeting his mom and now understands why the sheriff was so excited about Stiles’ initial FBI plans. And why he was so disappointed when Stiles switched tracks.

He’d always felt a little guilty about being the reason John couldn't leave Beacon Hills initially, even though Sheriff assured him it was because while the crime rate was rising, the number of available officers to deal with it did not. John -a deputy at the time- was overworked and underpaid He could make Sheriff quickly and stay in Beacon Hills since he considered it home. 

“I barely knew him at the time, but John loved me right away. I’d met him during one of the times your uncle was absent. John was at my house, I was probably about 22 or so. I know you're not too far removed from it, but do you remember 22, Derek? The carefree nature of it? I mean, yeah, you had college to worry about and growing up but looking back now I can't help but laugh at the fact that all I really had was college to think about. Well, college and John. At least that could have been it, but instead I chose grad school and Peter, and my family, and not having John. He stopped talking to me after Peter came back, and I couldn’t blame him.” 

Argent sounds frustrated as he continues.

"After Tori passed, John started courting me again. A few weeks went by of me stringing him along and never really fully committing, which led John to finally make the ultimatum that I knew was coming but still dreaded. It was just weeks before we were supposed to leave, you were young Stiles, but old enough to move with us or stay with Scott. Your dad was ready.”

Stiles wonders about this, and he thinks he remembers his dad making hidden late night calls, going on “patrols” at odd hours, etc. Stiles was deeply ingrained in his life, but he did try to offer his dad some privacy. He thinks now that might have been a mistake. 

“I had to cut him off to keep him from continuing to hurt himself.” Argent says. Stiles thinks maybe he missed something, but Derek shakes his head knowing, making the cuckoo sign as Argent continues. “ I was hurting him, yes, but he was hurting himself by continuing to believe in me and he was going to drag you into it and I just… I couldn’t. I had to cut him loose. I told him that Peter needed me more and kicked him out of my house. I remember every detail so clearly. I was standing there, messing with the lock on the door, trying to figure out what the fuck I'd just done.”


	6. The Call pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you hang up, when you're never really connected?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in the end notes.

“I knew Peter was watching me, he was elated when I told John that I knew Peter loved me best, needed me most, but he wasn’t sure how much he could act on it in that moment. I knew he was horny -that seems like a weird aside, but it’s important, that he was horny, that's just his way. He.. well, he says to me,

_'Come here and kiss me, Christophe.'_ and I couldn't move. I could hear him patting the area on the couch beside him. ‘ _Embrasse-moi, mon amour. Let's put this nasty business behind us once and for all.’_

But I couldn't move. I knew that if I looked at him, I would lose the anger I had towards him, and I needed that. I needed to feel like a normal person, with feelings and guilt, remorse, compassion. John and I were practically made for each other. He was a groomsman at my wedding. Claudia was Tori’s matron-of-honor. That was later, during the short time we reconciled, but even that night I knew I’d always be able to see John. That he was stable and I could always imagine him there in a way I never could with Peter.”

"Was Peter there at the wedding?" Derek asks, getting caught up in the story. "What is it about Peter? Where does this obsession come from, Chris?” Stiles can see Derek’s eyes go a little bit wild with curiosity. It hadn’t occurred to him that Derek has been fascinated with the two for quite a while. Peter could be discreet when he wanted to be, and evidently so could Derek. Stiles decides to file that away for later.

"There’s just something about him isn’t there?” Chris says with a far-a-way huff. “You know how he is, there’s a beauty to him that I think I react to."

"I know he’s very beautiful, but what is it-"

"That’s not what I said, Derek. Listen to me, let me finish." Derek exhales not even realizing he’d been holding his breath as Chris continues. 

"So Peter tells me to come kiss him and I tell him no. I was trying to remain human for as long as I could because I knew the second I gave into him, the second I looked into those eyes, I was done and it would be over. I remember I kept messing with the door and I said,

_'I don’t want to look at you right now, Peter. I’m so fucking- I can’t believe- he loves me so much Peter, so fucking much!'_ but he wasn't really hearing me. I heard him moving and finally he tells me to come kiss him again and I became so fucking irate. I _yelled_ at him, I said, _'Peter shut up, shut the fuck up for just a minute. You have to fix this shit, you have to fix this!'_ and I don't know why I said that, because I knew it would piss him off. He started yelling back at me,

_'I’m not fixing shit Chris, now get your ass over here and fucking kiss me!'_ and suddenly I had to get out of there you know? It’s not often your uncle loses his cool, but when he does it’s best to take cover. I had to get away. Away from his voice, his smell, his body, just away. I told him that I didn't even want to touch him and I kept my head down and tried to get to the kitchen as fast as I could. The next thing I know he's rushing me and slams me into the wall."

"Oh my God, Chris! Oh my-" Derek sits straight up, causing the phone to drop into his crotch. He just stares at it while Argent shushes him.

"Hush, wait. So I'm yelling at him, _'Peter, what the fuck? Get your fucking hands off of me!'_ and I try to push him away from me, but he just rushed me again. He made this noise, like he was a fucking animal, this wild, feral noise. He fucking _growled_ at me as he worked one of his legs around mine and slammed me to the ground where he just falls on top of me. I remember trying to resist him, he's very strong, but it wasn't just the physical part of it. That's Peter's secret, he knows how to inhabit your headspace. 

“We struggled a little bit, each trying to get a dominant position. I was so out of it, Derek, I was trying to contemplate Peter's moves, but I didn't realize that he had no idea what he was fucking doing, he just knew what needed to be done."

"What needed to be _done_? What does that mean? Argent, where is this going?" Derek stutters out. Stiles gets up from the chair and moves to Derek, slotting into the space behind him. He wraps his arms around Derek’s sides and massages his chest while pressing chaste, calming kisses into his neck. He can feel Derek’s pulse on his lips. 

"We were wrestling, and the next thing I knew he had my jeans undone-" Stiles unbuttons and unzips Derek’s jeans. Derek barely seems to notice. 

"Argent, I don't know if-" Comes out of Derek like a whisper, a whimper almost. 

"I tried to move away, but he caught me and turned me on my stomach, planting my face into the ground and pinning my arms above my head. I felt like a salamander, or a salmon, trying to swim upstream. He had one hand free which he used to completely undo my pants, and then he took both hands and pulled my pants and underwear off all at once."

"Why are you telling me this?" Derek asks incredulously. He could hear the sound of a soft snicker on the other line.

"This is why you called. This is what you want to know, so you'll listen." Derek lays back between Stiles’ legs, his hardness pressing into Derek’s back. Stiles gently palms Derek’s crotch as the wolf watches the ceiling fan above them, trying to count the revolutions as way to ease his mind.

"Okay, I'm listening." Derek says finally. Chris continues.

"In that brief moment when my hands were free, I started to punch him in his side as hard as I could, anything to get him off of me, but he kept blocking my hits. He pinned my waist to the floor with his body, blocked my punches with one hand, and grabbed my dick with the other. It was already hard, I... then he started to eat me out, just fucking goes for it. Pushes my legs wide and wriggles his tongue between my cheeks through the hair and to my hole. He’s got my wrists pinned and he’s wild man, like wolfed out or something. I could feel his teeth on either side of my hole, I could feel his hot breath on the cleft of my ass. He’s just lapping at my crack like it was an empty bowl of cake batter and… and I wanted it so badly, but not like that. You know how something so horrible can make you so inexplicably horny? Like this story is doing to you... right Derek?" 

Derek pants out an answer.

"... _yeah_." He was sure the answer would be the same regardless of the fact that Stiles is lazily stroking his cock and teasing his pert nipples. Something in Chris’ voice gives way to depravity and lust.

"Okay, good. We're on the same page. So he's eating me out and I'm horny as fuck, but I still, I need him to see me. I need him to admit to what he's doing. I remember asking him over and over,

_'Peter… oh- Peter, fuck, why are you fucking doing this to me?'_ and trying not to moan, trying not to gasp, but being unable to. He was pulling on my dick hard and rubbing his own against my leg. He took this moment of pliancy to remove my shirt and the rest of his clothes. Then he started to kiss up my back and licked up my spine and sucked on my neck and as he was doing this he just kept rubbing his body all over me and kissing me and pulling me and I almost exploded, Derek. I thought I would die... or cry. I tried to turn my head away from him, but he pressed it into the carpet with his face. His breath was hot and I knew he was going to fuck me, or own me... Whatever.

“He was stroking my face and maneuvering his dick between my ass cheeks and I just stopped resisting. I grabbed the legs of the table in front of me and braced myself, then he whispered into my ear.

_‘Chris,'_ he kissed my cheek and licked my jaw, _‘Chris, mon animal de compagnie? Are you ready?'_ and I tried to move once more but he still had that hold on me. All I could do is shut my eyes and ask him the same thing over and over.

_'Why? Why are you fucking doing this to me?'_ and I knew why, but I needed him to say it. I needed him to be human, but he didn't answer me, he just reached a hand down and guided his dick into me very slowly. It felt so great, Derek, so fucking great. We started fucking young, and we've had some great sex since then, but it was nothing like this. The pain, the fear, the passion, the fucking _love_. I gasped when he entered me, there wasn't much lube, but I don't think that's why I gasped. The next thing I knew I was meeting his thrusts and he was pulling my dick and we fell into this rhythm, up and down, back and forth, grinding and groaning. Derek are you there?"

"Yeah... yes, I'm here." 

“Is Stiles still there?”

“Yes- _ahh_! Yeah, he’s still here.” Derek answers for Stiles since he’s moved again and his mouth is preoccupied with one of Derek’s nipples.

"Good, I can hear it in your voice. Good. So he's wrapped himself completely around me, his arms are tight around my torso and he's breathing into my ear and he says to me,

_‘Chris... your ass is mine, mon petit monstre.'_ and he's moaning while he's saying this, he's so caught up in the moment. He says, _'And your fucking- merde, your fucking dick. Ahh- and your thighs, yes- and your stomach, and your fucking nipples, fuck- and your neck, all this is mine. Do you get that, that this belongs to me?'_ and his thrusts became longer and deeper and I couldn't control myself, couldn't wrap myself around what he was saying to me. All I could do was moan.

_'Peter, fuck me baby, uhh, yes, fuck me. What are you talking abo- fuck! Shit baby, fuck me-'_ and I reached back and grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper inside of me. He moaned into my back and put his knees between my legs so he could go even deeper. He's fucking the shit out of me and he says, _'Ahh hell yeah! Do you feel that, Chris? Do you like my dick in your ass? It’s my ass now, it is MINE now, and it- ahh- it always will- shit!'_ and he raises up on his fucking haunches and he’s just fucking banging me, like a fucking drum and he tells me to jack myself off because he wants to come together. Derek?"

" _Fuck,_ Argent, don't-"

"Derek, he wants us to come together and I start to do it, with my face planted into the floor and my ass in the fucking air I start to jack off and I get so light headed and tense and still so horny and finally it became too much and we came… fucking together just like he wanted. It was a relief, like a weight was lifted and Peter collapsed on top of me breathing that fucking hot air onto my neck and he turns me around and there's cum on my stomach from the floor and he's rubbing it between us and he takes my arms, holding them above my head and he's telling me to open my eyes,

_‘Mon bébé, Christophe look at me.'_ but I couldn't. I turned my head away, trying to hold in the tears that were seeping out and he started to kiss my face, every part of it and he says to me again, _‘Chris. Look at me.'_ and finally I face him and open my eyes and tears are streaming down the sides of my face and he kisses them and sucks up my fucking tears, and then he kisses me and I can taste them. 

“These salty, wet tears, mixed with sweat, and Peter, and me, I can taste it all. And when he finished kissing me, he nuzzled my nose and looked directly into my eyes with those gorgeous electric blue lagoons of his, he looks into me and says,

_'Do you see, Chris? All of this? All of this shit? It doesn’t matter, because even though I have your body, you have my heart. And that’s so much more.'_ His eyes kind of glazed over, I could tell he was frustrated because he wanted to tell me something very pointedly and couldn't. _'It doesn’t matter if I fucking pin you to the floor and fuck you, because all you have to do to kill me is say you don’t love me, or pay attention to fucking John, or ever stop loving me. This shit meant nothing. Chris, do you understand that? Tell me you understand that.'_ I thought about the past years of knowing and loving this man. There were so many ups and downs and absences, confusion and hurt, but I didn’t regret a single moment of it. I told him to let my arms go, but he wouldn't,

_'No, first tell me you-'_ he started, but I was in control now. So I bit his chin and told him again to let my arms go and he did, but he wrapped them around my body, holding me tightly. I ran my hands through his hair and looked into those pretty eyes again. His expression didn't change; it channeled frustration, worry, panic and most of all desperation. I knew then that it... wasn't _okay_ really, but that this was a start of something new, that he wouldn't leave me again. 

I told him, _'I love you Peter, and I’m yours, and your heart is mine. Is that what you want to hear baby?'_ And he nods and smiles a bit, but his eyes get a little wider. It's that slightly crazed look, I know he's crazy, my man, my monster, I know he's insane. And he does stupid shit like that to get his point across, but it's one of the reasons I love him so deeply. Much like your reasons for loving who you love, Derek."

"Stiles is nothing like that." Derek watches as Stiles mouths at his cock through his briefs. 

"I’m sure he has no intention to be. And he places his head on my chest and says,

_'Yes Christophe, I love you, pet. I love you so much. This time I’m staying, I promise. I don’t care what anyone says I’m staying with you, I love you. I’ll never leave.'_ I smiled and ran my fingers through his hair as he fell asleep. I want so desperately to believe him this time, but...

“He's poison, Derek. But he's a poison I've come to rely on. You know like _Rapuccinni's Daughter_? I thought I'd become immune to his toxicity, but really I'd just become dependent. We fucked all during my marriage, meeting up here and there. I felt guilty, but at the same time it felt necessary." 

Derek -nearly ceasing to function by this point- knows this is not Chris’ way, something else is going on.

"Arg- Argent, I don't know... I mean what the fuck?" Derek whines as Stiles reaches up and strokes his chest lightly.

"You think you don't understand because it's so extreme to you, but I know you feel it. I know that you know what it's like to be so in love with someone so badly, to share an insatiable lust with someone so deeply, that friendships, relationships, nor marriages take precedence. When you put it in those terms-"

"I don't know what you're talking about Argent. I mean, love that addictive has to be reciprocated in order to work, but that doesn’t sound like love, it sounds like toxicity."

“Look at you, starting to understand. Though I’m sure Stiles understood a long time ago. Probably around the time he started sucking your dick.” Derek pulls Stiles’ hair causing him to look up at Derek. The look in his eyes hides some sort of mischief as he absentmindedly licks his lips. He looks at Derek’s stressed expression and sighs, addressing Chris directly,

“Argent? Is Peter there with you now? Has he been there this whole time?" He asks. Derek ducks his eyebrows in disbelief, mouthing ‘ _what?!’_ to Stiles who shushes him with a finger over his mouth. He points at the phone.

"Peter's always here." Stiles smiles and is about to go back to the task in hand, but Derek narrows his eyes and runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair. He’s pulling it in chunks, wrenching Stiles’ head back a bit more each time, watching Stiles’ mouth go more and more slack. There’s a long pause, and finally,

"So to answer your question, no, I don't think Peter will be a problem. I'm sure you boys have some preparations to make. How about I come over there Friday at about 10? I’ll bring the condoms. I'll see you then." Argent disconnects the call and looks over at Peter who is dozing lightly beside him. He scales his eyes over the man who lays so vulnerable beside him and leans over, pressing a soft kiss to a hairy buttock. Peter shifts slightly and rumbles happily. He reaches a hand back and ruffles Chris’s hair. 

“ _mon amour…_ ” he purrs before drifting back to sleep. Chris goes to the bathroom to get a damp cloth and looks at himself in the mirror. 

He quickly looks away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter forces himself onto Argent despite Argent's protestations. Argent takes it, but it's still really effing muddy given everyone's mental states. This is not a portrayal of a healthy relationship.


	7. Friday Night Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Think we kissed but I forgot._

"Are you here?" Stiles huffs into the phone. He’s in their pool house... they _have_ a pool house. It started as a shed where they would store stuff, but sometime during undergrad Stiles got a summer job helping with restorations. He turned the sizeable shed into a type of bungalow, complete with a sitting room, a small kitchen and a bedroom with a door for privacy in the back. It was cozy, but there was room enough.

For three men at least.

He sits in a chair wearing silk boxers, grasping his hard on in his hand. He’s not stroking it, it’s not even exposed. He just grasps it near the base with his hand tucked into the waistband, relishing in the discipline of its confinement.

"Not yet, I'll be on my way soon, can Derek talk?" Argent asks though Stiles knows it’s not a matter of wanting to speak to Derek. He knows. Stiles looks over to where said boyfriend is doing everything in his power not to fuck the couch.

Across the room Derek is kneeling towards the back of the couch, his bare ass in the air as he rests his head on the spine. He sluggishly lifts up his head and looks hungrily and expectantly at Stiles who throws him a nod. At this Derek tugs another large bead out of his ass, relying on and reluctant at the release of pressure. His body writhes as he scrapes his nails over his own cheeks and rubs his fingers around his hole feeling the stretch of the warming metal. He hears two snaps and sees Stiles chastising him, making him wait. Derek whimpers as Stiles continues his call.

"Let's just say he's otherwise preoccupied. Bear?. Another."

Argent can hear the desperate moan indicating Derek’s obedience. He may swerve a bit.

"When will you be here?" Stiles asks, blissfully beginning to lose his own control. He cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder and begins to finger at his hole while the grip around his cock gets tighter. "Will you come soon?"

"No," Argent states, causing Stiles to pause a moment, "but I will be there soon." Stiles grins wickedly and licks his lips as Argent chuckles.

“I have to drop off Peter’s cleaning and then I’ll be there.” Argent looks at the embroidered laundry bag that contained a three piece suit, splattered in cum. His dry cleaners hate him, but he couldn’t deny the little thrill he gets at drop-off. Plus, they do a great job. He hears Stiles sigh.

“I gathered from our previous _-ridiculous-_ conversation that Peter isn’t going to be a problem.” Stiles questions rolling his eyes slightly when Derek raises an eyebrow upon hearing his uncle’s name.

“He’s not.” Argent assures him, “Doing errands for your loved ones is never a problem. Haven’t you learned that, Stiles?”

“When those errands might mean a change in mind of the people you’re keeping waiting, it might be time to adjust your schedule, dude.”

Argent chuckles, remembering how young Stiles is in years, though being sure to remind himself that numbers can be deceiving.

“Maybe,” He says confidently running a red light at an empty intersection, “perhaps if I didn’t have the cards. But I know how much you want me for this.”

And he did, though he was hoping Stiles wouldn’t dig too hard to confirm, especially since he’d been ratted out through Scott via Allison. Argent was over having coffee, mildly complaining that the Sheriff was ducking his calls and Allison let it slip about the three-some.

“ _I’m not gossiping, really, I’m not._ ” She said cooly, though he could tell she was… not angry, but definitely annoyed. They’d never had a conventional father-daughter relationship, and Allison took to her role of matriarch instantly after Tori’s passing. “ _Scott is terrible at keeping secrets and I knew he wanted to spill so I dragged it out of him. I don’t want to get involved, dad, but Stiles deserves to know what went on between you and ‘Uncle John’. What really went on.”_

_“Shit, you remember that?”_ Argent asked her, thinking about how perceptive she was, or perhaps how sloppy he was, all the times he tried to sneak to see John or Peter.

Allison just sighed, “ _Yes, I remember the weekly phone calls with my dad and his old ‘roommate’.”_

She’d told him not to hurt Stiles, but Argent knew if he told the boy the true story, it wouldn’t do anything but cause hurt. Though he has toyed with the possibility that Stiles may already know.

"I can't wait until you get here.” Stiles says, pointedly moving on. “I have a lot of ideas, I think you'll be impressed."

A pregnant pause passes and finally Argent speaks, "Stiles, I get the feeling you like to be in control."

Stiles winks at Derek, this time ordering him to put one of the beads back in. Derek’s body trembles, sweat falling in heavy drops down his back as he twists the bead back into his ass, panting hungrily into the crook of his elbow. Stiles snaps again, motioning for Derek not to lose eye contact. Derek's eyes are nearly obsidian as he swallows loudly waiting on his next instruction. Stiles shrugs.

"Yeah, sometimes."

"But I don't think you chose me because you want to be in control.” Argent says as he pulls into the strip mall. “I think you chose me because you want someone to take control. To bring you to the edge and hold you back before letting you fall all the way to the bottom of yourself. You want that don't you? And want me to do that for you." Argent can hear a noise like Stiles sucking on his finger and a moment later a moan falls out of his mouth indicating that newly wetted finger found it’s new home.

"Derek-"

"No, Derek's not enough of a monster to give you what you need. He’s not willing to interpret your _no’s_ for what they really are, _suggestions.._." Argent grabs the bag and walks into the store. Stiles can hear the ding of the bell over the line and stands up, walking slowly over to Derek who doesn’t change his position on the couch. He kneels behind Derek and considers his anus.

"He's everything I want." Stiles says as he grabs the string and teases at pulling another bead. He takes it out half way, mesmerized as Derek’s hole expands over the largest part of the bead, knowing the beads inside of him are bunching against his prostate. He gently nudges it back in and Derek rears his hips back, moaning obscenely and filling the thickening air between them.

"I know he's everything you want, Stiles. I know you're looking at him now. Sometimes you wonder how you got so lucky to have this Adonis that hates practically everyone but loves you so dearly." Argent was right, the first few months of Stiles and Derek’s relationship were publicly loud and a little tough.

Shortly after Derek, Argent (and Scott - who wasn’t really involved, but nearly always inserts himself into the heroic rescue portion of the story) rescued Stiles, Stiles decided it was high time to put together a patrol for the wooded area.

“ _I was out there for fucking ever waiting for someone to find me. If it wasn’t for Scottie here, that coyote probably would have tried to mate with me and it would not have been consensual, I’m not that desperate for a fucking date._ ” Stiles explained while at the same time admonishing Derek and Argent for not already having something set up.

Argent relegated himself quickly to consultant status, only piping in when absolutely necessary. Derek got wrangled into training the volunteers and helping Stiles map out the land and form perimeter checks. The two fought like cats and dogs. Whether it was Stiles berating Derek for being too rough on the patrolees or Derek yelling at Stiles for not giving him enough information about whatever plan he’d put together, the two seemed to have a clear disdain for each other and neither was shy about expressing it.

Perhaps it’s a part of why they worked? Because one fateful night after catching some illegal hunters, Stiles and Derek went from fighting about some imperceptible flaw in the plan to pushing at each other to dry humping and making out on the floor… in front of the entire group which at that point included Argent, the sheriff, Melissa, Scott and Allison. It was a strange Thanksgiving.

“ _Get the fuck out of here!”_ Stiles yelled to everyone as he tore Derek’s shirt off. Snapping back to reality, each of the members took their leave and didn’t hear from the two for the next few days. The sheriff complained openly about being fucked out of house and home and was glad he had some extra clothes at Melissa’s. When they did return, Stiles and Derek were a couple and the rest was history.

Well, almost. Stiles loved Derek quickly and fiercely and while he knew Derek had trouble expressing his emotions, it was never a problem when they were in bed. And he’s grown so much in the years they’ve been together. It’s just that in Derek’s maturation there was something missing…. something Stiles didn’t want, but perhaps it was something he needed.

“He’s so big, isn’t he? And strong. I know you think he gives you everything you want, and I’m sure he does, but you can feel it can’t you. Something is missing. And it’s something dark. Something you can’t quite admit to yourself.” Argent says this into his phone while making copious amounts of eye contact with the cashier at the cleaners. The launderette owner scowls as she snatches the bag from Argent and pushes a ticket in his hand. He smiles, nodding his thanks and heads back to his car.

“Argent,” Stiles slurs as he runs his tongue around the rim of Derek’s anus. He’s making him hold his cheeks back and he’s rubbing a small vibrator up and down his perineum. Derek’s eyes are closed, but if they were open they’d be black as onyx. “You don’t know anything about Derek and me. Just come over so we can fuck you, okay?”

Argent chuckles and pats the new bag he pulled out of the trunk.

“Stiles. Don’t touch yourself until I get there, okay?”

Stiles snorts. “Whatever, Argent. We’ll see you soon?”

The bag is on the seat next to him and there’s a little padlock on the enclosure. Inside some of the items make a clinking sound.

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

***

Argent pulls into the drive and parks, looking past the pool at the nondescript cabana in the back. There’s an open air section with a bar and outdoor kitchen, and then a part that leads to the lounge in the back. Argent stops briefly at the bar, considers the bottle of Jack and takes a swig. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t check it. He just guesses it’s Peter, thoughhe wonders if it’s another missed connection with John. As much as Argent has tried to reach him, Argent can never seem to answer when the sheriff reaches back. He takes another swig.

He could have answered, but he knows they would argue and he’s not sure if he would have been able to let the sheriff win. And if they had talked, the sheriff would have to win, Argent was on his way to fuck his sons after all. He couldn’t best John in an argument, especially one he was supposed to be apologizing in.

He replaces the bottle and heads inside quietly, listening for the men as he walks in. He goes down a small hall and sees a door cracked slightly. Argent can smell their sex as it wafts into the hallway.

“You’re doing so good, bear.”

“Please, let me move?”

“Almost, sweetheart. _Almost_...”

Argent grabs himself, squeezing lightly as he softly pushes the door open the rest of the way. It’s quiet and even though Stiles is sitting in a chair across from him, his eyes never leave Derek who is on his knees in front of him, panting. Argent’s grip tightens on his bag as he watches the scene in front of him unfold.

Stiles is in a chair, nothing fancy, just an old fashioned dining room chair with arms. He’s naked, but his legs are crossed and he’s watching Derek with warm brown eyes. Derek continues to breath heavily and Chris can see a bead of sweat trail down his back and onto the pillow where he’s crouched.

“He’s sitting on his cock.” Stiles explains, though it confuses Argent since Derek’s cock is out, hard and flush against his belly. Argent walks slowly towards Stiles, noting that Derek doesn’t move his head to look at the man. He just swallows heavily, waiting. Argent cocks an eyebrow as Stiles chuckles. “It’s a dildo, we made it from a mold fitted from his cock. We like to use it when I tell him to go fuck himself.”

Argent snorts and Derek makes a sound like a growl.

“Please, Stiles. Please.” He hisses, learning forward slightly as Stiles reaches out his hand and places it on the back of Derek’s neck, squeezing lightly. He digs his nails into Derek’s neck and nuzzles him softly.

“I told him he couldn’t move until you got here, and now you’re here. Go ahead, pet.” At _‘pet’,_ Stiles looks as Argent bristles at the familiar name.

He recovers quickly.

“You’re right, I am here now.” Argent opens his bag and reaches in to get something before letting the whole thing clatter noisily to the floor. Derek considers the bag for a moment which is why he misses what Stiles has had his eyes trained on. The glinting silver metal in Argent’s hands. The one thing Stiles grew up with that he feared, but also made him horny as shit.

Argent is smooth and calculated as he cuffs one of Stiles wrists, winds it through the the arm of the chair and cuffs Stiles’ other wrist, securing the boy to the chair.

“What the fuck, Argent!” Stiles yells, finally catching up. He pulls at the restraints and looks at Derek. “Bear!”

Argent turns to where Derek is about to raise on his knees and pushes him back, landing his mouth on Derek’s cock like a Hoover with a new nozzle. The pressure of Argent’s mouth and the cock in his ass zeroing in on his prostate has Derek coming hot and hard down Argent’s throat.

The flood of orgasm intoxicates Derek and drowns out Stiles yelling in his chair. Argent ignores the boy, pulling the dildo gently from Derek’s ass before reaching back in his bag and pulling out another item that shuts Stiles up except to say,

“You better not, you son of a bitch!” Stiles clamps his mouth quickly as Argent dangles the ballgag from his finger. He thinks better of it, nodding, and reaches back in to pull out a scarf. Stiles looks wary as Argent grabs him by the jaw. He doesn’t force Stiles’ mouth open, but after a momentary look, Stiles opens cautiously and Argent balls the scarf softly into his mouth.

“It’s just for a little bit, while I take care of your boyfriend, okay?” Stiles doesn’t nod, just watches as Argent turns and gathers a languorous Derek into his arms briefly before depositing him on the couch. He reaches into his back again, pulling out a plug that he slides smoothly into Derek’s ass. Argent leans in, feeling Stiles’ glare on his back.

“You stay here and recover, sleeping beauty.” He tells the cum dumb young man, “We’ll need you at full strength after I make sure your boy is ready.”

Stiles muffles something and tries to spit out the scarf with no luck. He’s bright red with anger, and he pulls violently at the cuffs, as the wood creaks in the old dining chair. Argent goes to stand in front of the young man whose eyes are nearly teary with rage and he bends down, anchoring the chair as Stiles thrashes about.

“Did you touch yourself when I specifically told you not to?”

Stiles’ brow furrows as he tries to talk, the muffled sound seemingly enraging him more. His eyes flit from Argent to Derek who is still checked out.

Argent reaches forward and grabs the end of the scarf, pulling slowly, marveling as it unravels from Stiles’ mouth like the end of a magician’s trick. Stiles takes large, ragged gulps of air and is about to protest, but stops short when Argent holds up a key to the cuffs. Stiles eyes go wide, tracking the key, and he looks back at Argent, expectant, waiting.

Argent watches him carefully, looks deeply into his honeyed amber eyes for what he wants. He stares, leaning in closely searching for a look he knows so well, one that was so ingrained in the senior that Argent is sure it’s genetic. And after another moment, he sees it. Way in the back, just to the right of the boy’s dilated pupil, he see it: _hunger_.

Argent grins and reaches down, undoing the cuffs. Stiles is rubbing his wrists when Argent asks again.

“Did you touch yourself, when I specifically told you not to?” Argent indicates to Stiles now flagging hard-on. Ever defiant, Stiles rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t say anythin-” His words are cut short as Argent grabs Stiles’ neck. The boy’s hands instinctively go to pull Argent’s hands away, but he’s too fast, quickly grabbing Stiles’ other wrist. Derek is slowly coming back online and watches warily, wondering if this is a part of it or if he should step in. Stiles see him moving slightly in his periphery. Wonders if he should signal Derek to come over. Wonders if Derek could stop it at all. Wonders whether he wants to ask Derek to try.

Argent cocks a brow, not necessarily placating the situation, but it’s enough to settle Stiles’ gaze as Argent slides his hand up Stiles’ throat and uses his thumb to pull down Stiles’ jaw before slipping it in and resting his pad on Stiles’ tongue.

“Show me.” He says simply.

“Wha-?” Stiles asks, perturbed and bewildered

“Show me how you touched yourself. Show me how you disobeyed.”

“Argent, I think-” Derek starts to say, but stops when Stiles lifts his middle finger, flipping off the older man. He then sucks it into his mouth, alongside Argent’s thumb and wets it, before throwing his leg over the arm of the chair and using the finger to circle his asshole.

Argent’s breath stutters as he grabs himself roughly, relieving some of the tension on his still confined cock. He looks at Stiles who smirks at him victorious, Argent can see the confidence seep slowly back into his eyes.

“Argent, I told you I had some ideas for tonight,” Stiles starts as he reaches forward, fingering Argent’s belt and pulling the man to him. He rests his cheek on Argent’s thigh and begins to undo his belt. He pouts slightly under Argent’s stoic gaze. “Aww, don’t be like that! I thought tonight was going to be about having a little kinky fun?”

Argent reaches down and grabs a handful of Stiles’ hair, wrenching his head back as Stiles chuckles defiantly. It’s a short lived mirth as Argent leans forward, almost close enough to kiss Stiles, but instead he reaches into his bag and pulls out a collar. He hovers it at Stiles’ eye level.

“Put this on.”

Stiles huffs, “What? Fuck you, no!”

“Put this on, or you’ll be punished.”

Stiles shakes his head which is still in Argent’s grip.

“What the fuck, Argent? Disobeyed, punished? I’m not the one fucking taking orders here, Chris, I give-”

Stiles can’t finish his statement because in an instant Argent is pulling him towards the door.

“ _Oww_ , fuck, Argent, what are you doing!?” Stiles screams a Argent drags him down the hall, naked and prone before tossing him deftly out of the front door and closing and locking it. Derek appears behind him, bewildered but still hard. Argent can tell that he’s trying to think of something to say, but coming up empty so he just kind of vaguely gestures at the rumbling door as Stiles’ curses seem to permeate it.

Argent holds a finger up to his mouth and with his other finger beckons Derek forward. He remembers Derek is a good boy, as he complies with Argent’s orders. Derek has always taken well to authority, from being ordered around by his elders. He was a big man with a kink for being told what to do, which would make the situation with Stiles seem ideal, but Argent knew there was more to it. Something that lay just below the surface that could threaten their bliss. And he wanted to expose it.

“Argent, you fucking piece of shit! You think I won’t cause a fucking ruckus out here! You think I’m scared of offending the fucking neighbors! Fuck you! Fuck you and open this fucking door _now_! You fucking piece of-”

“Mmm…” Argent grins, knowing that Stiles hears his lover’s moan. The moan that Argent elicits from Derek as he kisses him languidly, lightly fingering his still loose and pliant hole, feeling especially where the plastic from the small plug meets his skin. He’s got Derek pressed up against the door that shakes whenever Stiles bangs against it and he’s kissing him roughly, one leg hitched around his waist as he squeezes at Derek’s ass and molests his hole.

He can see Stiles’ hand through the window and he knows Stiles bemoans the frosting he’d insisted on while they were building. He knows Stiles is close to just breaking the thing; he also knows Stiles can hear them perfectly.

“Fuck, Derek. You’re like a chiseled statue. I wanna tear you down.”

“Don’t you fucking talk to him, you son of a bitch! Derek, don’t fucking- shit!”

Argent nuzzles at Derek’s neck and glides his hands down Derek’s arms, settle them both above his head before stepping back to admire the work before him. He takes off his clothes and watches as Derek tenses slightly from every bang on the door, still unsure of how much, if any, is a part of this.

Argent walks back up to Derek and turns him around, leaning him forward slightly as he removes the plug, tossing it somewhere to the right, and kisses the tip of his dick to Derek’s entrance. He leans forward as he starts his breach, whispering wetly in Derek’s ear.

“Your lover loves you, but even more he loves being in control, doesn’t he?”

Derek doesn’t nod, but knows he doesn’t need to. Instead he sighs as Argent’s cock begins to fill him. He tries briefly to remember if Argent’s dick was a magic wand that shot unicorn glitter or if it was that his ass was stuffed with it, all he knew was the feeling was magical.

“Bear?! What’s going on? What’s he making you do? Shit, what’s he doing to you, bear?”

“The thing is, Derek, that while he loves being in control-” Argent presses as he begins to gyrate his hips smoothly guiding his dick in and out of Derek’s ass. “-he loves losing it just as much.”

“ _Uhhngh, shit, Stiles_!” Derek slurs as Argents thrust become less languid and more focused towards his pleasure.

“Bear!” Stiles says, much more calmly, but with a hint of desperation at the end. Derek reaches back and grabs Argent’s ass, pushing it into him, quickening the pace. Argent complies as he reaches around, grabbing Derek’s member in his hand and massaging it in the same rhythm as his thrusts.

“Ahh, fuck, Stiles, yes!” Derek’s ministrations seem to have calmed Stiles who has gone quiet on the other side of the door, although Argent knows he’s still there, knows he would never leave. Not even to get the spare key.

“Do you hear that, Stiles? Do you hear me fucking your lover, the love of your fucking life. And he wants you in here. Don’t you hear how much he wants you in here? He wants you-”

“Stiles!” Derek yells as Argent’s dicks glances across his prostate. Stiles whines lowly on the other side of the door.

“Argent, _fuck_ , please! Is that what you want? Please, let me back in!”

Argent chuckles at the misguided youth. “You know what I want, Stiles. You know what I need to hear, what I need you to be. The choice is up to you. Derek and I are perfectly happy to go at it- _uggh, fuck your ass, Derek!-_ without you.”

“Argent, open this fucking door, right fucking now! _Fuck!_ ”

“Stiles, please!” Derek shouts, getting closer the edge, “Need you, need you so bad.”

“Fine!” Stiles shouts out, finally conceding, “Fucking fine, yes, fuck! I-” Stiles mumbles something nearly inscrutable and Argent stops mid-thrust, putting his hand over Derek’s mouth, shushing him.

“Shh… your lover wants to say something, Derek. This is very hard for him so we must listen carefully. Stiles? Louder, please. We didn’t hear-”

“Piece of fucking-” Stiles mutters before clearing his throat. “I said I… I… _disobeyed._ ”

“That’s right, you did, Stiles. You disobeyed me. And you were punished. Now what will you do for me? To make it up to me.”

“I’ll be _good_.”

“I almost understand? But I feel like you can do bet-”

“Dammit, I’ll be your good boy! I’ll be good, Argent, I promise. I’ll be good.”


	8. Friday Night Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"There's a stranger in my head, there's a pounding in my bed."_

Argent smiles and begins his thrusts again, pistoning into the young man until Derek finally comes sloppily on the floor. He leans heavily against the door trying to catch his breath. Argent sighs, holding off on coming and letting the waves of bliss crest over him as he denies himself the ultimate release. He gathers himself and winks at Derek.

“Now, now Derek, let’s not be rude.” He says, indicating that Derek is very much blocking the entrance. Derek slides to the floor and drags himself to sitting against the side wall. Argent unlocks and opens the door.

Stiles stands there, one hand pulling at his balls and the other grasping the base of his turgid erection. The look on his face is cautious, yet malleable. It’s about as much as Argent can expect and Stiles stays silent as he kneels down putting himself in Derek’s lap, wrapping his arms around the man and kissing him anywhere his lips can reach.

Argent clears his throat, drawing Stiles’s attention and holds out the collar to him. It’s a leather thing, in buttery brown espresso which Argent chose because of the way it plays with the blue in Peter’s eyes. It does the same with Stiles’ sparkling amber eyes and Argent grins as Stiles takes it without argument and puts it on. It’s stained already with Derek’s cum and Stiles runs his finger through a streak before sticking it in his mouth.

Argent grins, and reaching forward, he runs his thumb over Stiles’ sharp cheekbone. He leans in, his lips pressed to the shell of Stiles’ ear.

“The safeword is _John_.”

“Jesus _fucking-_ ” Before Stiles can finish Argent has hauled him over his shoulder and motions for Derek to follow him back into the bedroom. He knows Derek is trying to check in with Stiles, but he also knows Stiles is probably refusing to look Derek in the eye.

They get to the room and Argent inelegantly flops Stiles on the bed, holding him down firmly with a palm planted in the middle of the boy’s chest. Stiles’ body goes rigid, fighting a battle between rebelliousness and being _good_.

He waits as Stiles settles and gingerly removes his hands, allowing his fingertips to graze Stiles’ nipples. Derek is standing by the bed, watching hungrily, waiting for instruction. Argent goes back to his bag and this time pulls out a contraction of shiny black steel.

“Oh fuck _me_!” falls from Stiles’ lips like a honeyed whisper as he puts his head back, closing his eyes. Derek cocks a brow at the contraption. It’s black with a steel netted head and a spiral body. At the end is a ring and a tiny padlock rests at the top.

“Make it go away, Stiles.” Argent demands softly.

“I can’t!” Stiles yells, thrashing his head back and forth. His gyrations are causing his cock to flail about wildly, little drops of precum hit Derek who is watching, somewhat amused.

“You wanna get that-” Derek asks, indicating to his lover’s sizeable boner, “-into that?” Argent nods while Stiles continues having a fit on the bed.

“C’mon, Stiles. You said you were going to be my good boy, be good for Uncle Chris.” Argent can see the memories flood Stiles’ mind. The forgotten phone calls, so distant they’d seem like ghosts, or lucid aural hallucinations that could be contributed to another consciousness or past life. “If you’re good for Uncle Chris, I’ll give you something sweet.”

Stiles has a rueful smile on his face. Argent guesses he’s remembering now, that short amount of time that Argent tried to be there for John. The times he would call and he knew it was the high point of Sheriff’s week. The one thing that kept him afloat after Claudia died. He’d wanted Argent to become close with Stiles, to love him like a father loves his son. Argent remembers trying… briefly. Stiles watches the blades of the ceiling fan turn and slowly his erection goes down as Derek looks on in wonder.

“This is fucked up.” he whispers, not unkindly. In fact, he’s mostly impressed as Argent kneels on the bed and carefully fits the cock cage over Stiles’ shaft and the ring around his balls, locking the cage in place.

Derek begins to breathe heavily, swaying at the site of his flushed mate docile in his entrapment and pliant on the bed. Derek never thought it was a coincidence that Stiles’ chosen name shared the first two letters with the word “stubborn”. The boy was born with a defiant streak a mile long and while Derek wouldn’t want it any other way, it does make him wonder what he’s been missing.

“You’re starting to understand.” Argent says, capturing Derek’s attention with his icy blue gaze. Derek looks between the two and shrugs.

“What?”

Argent cocks his head to Stiles who is as still as a corpse on the bed. His fingers twitch occasionally and he’s starting to sweat. Argent can tell Derek wants to lick him clean.

“You don’t mind being the submissive in your relationship, and I agree, it can be a wonderful thing, but consider, Derek-” Argent crawls on the bed, slotting himself behind the boy, lifting his leg with one hand and his confined cock with the other. He bares Stiles quivering asshole to Derek and Stiles keens as a tear of overexertion spills from his eye, down his cheek. He’s lithe, as willowy as a rag doll and submissive in a way Derek never even fully knew he’d wanted. “Consider that Stiles may want to be submissive too?”

“Stiles never has a problem asking for what he wants.” Derek says, as much to Stiles as to Argent. Argent snorts, his hand running up and down Stiles’ side. He’s rubbing circles into his chest and Stiles’ whines fill the room.

“This isn’t about what he wants, Derek. It’s only about what he _needs_.”

“My boyfriend doesn’t need someone to take advantage of him.” Dere insists, though with the way Stiles is reacting, he’s maybe not so sure.

“Don’t think of it as taking, Derek, think of it as feeding, as nourishment. He is a growing boy afterall.” Argent dips his head and rasps his beard against one of Stiles’ nipples. Stiles doesn’t move like he normally would, he doesn’t grab a handful of Argent’s hair and slap him gleefully in the face like he would do with Derek. No, he just moans, and his hands flex tangled in the mess of sheets beneath him.

“Well if he wanted this so badly, or needed it, then why wouldn’t he just ask? Or just take it.”

Argent looks at Derek plainly, “Well that’s easy. He’s scared.” He says matter-of-factly. Derek huffs.

“Impossible, nothing scares him.”

“He’s done a good job of pretending, I’m sure.”

“Argent, I think you’re off, I-”

“Chris…. please, no.” Stiles mutters, his eyes still closed, as more tears join the first on his cheeks.

“He’s never gotten over needing to be rescued. Never gotten over the feeling of being weak, scared and alone.”

“What? He couldn’t prevent… it was an accident.”

“Accidents happen, Derek. It still happened. And your lover suffers.”

Derek paces the room as he tries to understand what he’s being told.

“I thought, I thought being in control made him feel-”

“It covered his true feelings.”

“How do you-? How do you fucking _know-_? Stiles!” Derek walks to the bed and cups Stiles’ cheek in his hand. He runs a thumb over the tears and gently pulls at his lower lip. Stiles kisses it sweetly, drawing it in and suckling it like his own thumb.

“Because it’s what went wrong between me and his dad- one of the many things, but one of the most important.” Argent slides from under Stiles, leaving him naked and prone. Derek reacts, almost instinctively and drapes himself over the boy, taking over by smoothing long stripes up and down Stiles’ body.

“You don’t want that for Stiles.” Argent pulls up a chair next to the bed and sitting in it comfortably, crossing his legs. “Some petty grievance driving a wedge between you and the man you love.”

“My uncle as a petty grievance. It’s oddly fitting.” Derek says absently. He’s looking at Stiles as though he’s seeing him for the first time and Stiles trembles under the gaze.

“He’s been scared of your strength, the cockiness and confidence of your demeanor, your fucking gait. He’s scared that if he admits how strong and capable you are, that you won’t want him anymore, won’t want someone so weak and vulnerable.”

“That’s not true! I-”

“Show him.”

Derek looks briefly at Argent who is sipping from a bottle he produced from gods know where. Then he turns to Stiles, laying under him, his eyes open, and nearly innocent in their newness.

Derek smiles and grabs both of Stiles’ wrists, hoisting them above his head. Stiles lets out a his as he bucks his hips, trying to get friction on his caged cock. He whines, shaking his head.

“Go ahead, Derek.” Argent whispers from his seat, “Show him it’s okay to let go. Show him that you’ll catch him.”

Derek licks a smooth line up Stiles’ cheek, slurping up his tears.

“Stiles, look at me.”

Stiles shakes his head harder, “I- I… c-can’t. I _can’t_!”

“Stiles!” Derek says firmly, causing Stiles to snap to attention, his wide eyes blackened with lust. He looks at his lover, awestruck, not believing what he’s seeing, but still indulging in it.. “You’re going to be my good boy, aren’t you?”

Stiles nods quickly, panting heavily and taking in large gulps of air.

“And you’re going to let me fuck you with your face pressed into the mattress while I have my way with you. I’m going to restrain your arms with whatever kinky ass bondage shit Argent has in that Mary Poppins carpet bag and I’m going to desecrate your asshole while you choke on Argent’s dick.”

Stiles starts to nod, but Derek grabs his neck, squeezing hard. Stiles stares, mouth agape, waiting as Derek’s gaze stabs at him like daggers, piercing his soul.

“That wasn’t a question.”

Stiles’ eyes roll in the back of his head as Derek flips him over smoothly on his front. He pulls up his hips so the boy’s ass is exposed in the air and raises his hand, landing it firmly on the meatiest part of Stiles’ ass. Stiles may lean into it, at this point he’d lean into anything, give anything to have the freedom of his erection or the submission of his denial.

Argent walks to the bed with his bag and hands Derek a soft brown pair of leather cuffs, much like the collar, though these are secured with laces and metal ties. Derek ties Stiles arms and then sits back to admire his handiwork.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Stiles, do you know that?” Stiles groans and Derek slaps his cheek again. “When I compliment you, you take it, understand?” Derek demands. Stiles nods, but Derek drapes himself over the boy, pressing him further into the mattress.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” Stiles squeaks out, his voice rough with need, “Yes, bear.”

“Good, that’s good.” Derek rubs circles into Stiles’ thighs and ass and motions for Argent to take his place a the head of the bed. Argent climbs on, sitting back on his heels and begins to gently lift Stiles’ head when Derek grabs the collar and hoists him up by the neck. Stiles’ gags slightly, but his nipples are taut and firm and he doesn’t move or react. Derek grins.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time, Stiles. Thought about how much you could give me, how much I would _take_. Fuck, I’m going to ruin you, sweetie. I fucking love you so much, I’m going to fucking _destroy_ you.”

Stiles groans again, this time it’s long and pleading and when Derek let’s go of the collar, Stiles begins to nuzzle at Argent’s crotch. He could just start lapping at Argent’s leaking head, but he waits obediently, smearing some of Argent’s pre on his cheek.

“You gotta O gag in there?” Derek asks, his expertly nonchalant tone managing to shock the older man. Argent nods dumbly as Derek finds it himself, pulling out a bronze O-ring gag with leather restraints. Derek looks at the collar and the arm restraints and then back at Argent. “I’m sensing a theme…”

“I like to keep on brand.” Argent says, taking the strap and fitting the ring into Stiles’ mouth. They ignore the way his eyes flit cautiously, letting him work through it . He settles and then Argent lays the tip of his dick on Stiles’ tongue. At the same time, Derek places the tip of his tongue at Stiles’ entrance. The noise that comes from Stiles’ core makes Argent glad he put in the gag.

It’s a hard, heavy grunt stifled now by Argent’s cock pushed forcefully to the back of Stiles’ throat. The boy gags and tears stream down his face, but the look in his eyes is one of unfettered passion and bliss.

Derek continues assaulting him from the back while Argent rips his pleasure from Stiles’ mouth. A tear of orgasm strikes through Stiles like a bolt of lighting, the pain in equal amount to the pleasure. The boy attempts to go limp, but Derek hauls his hips back up and plants his head back on Argent’s thigh so he can take his cock again. A few thrusts more leave Derek coming, collapsing on top of Stiles as Argent spills down his gullet, pulling out fast to finish on his face, some of his cum getting lost in Stiles’ nose.

Derek weighs heavily on Stiles and Stiles just fucking _takes_ it, whining and sweating as his dick throbs with need. He finally sits up, panting with a small hiss as he pulls himself gently from Stiles and lays him on his side. He undoes the arm restraints first and then works on the ring gag and then the collar. When that’s done he looks to Argent who hands him the key for the cock cage. Stiles gives a whimpering sigh as his cock is released and cum starts to spill out and onto the mattress. He’s got a small grin on his face as Derek sweeps his hair back from his forehead and kisses it sweetly.

“You did so good, Stiles. You’re such a good boy. You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Derek says softly into Stiles’ ear as he pets down his flank. Stiles arches into the caresses, still too fucked up to really open his eyes, but loving the attention openly as his dick starts to harden up again.

Derek spits in his palm and begins to jack Stiles slowly, knowing he can’t take much else. It doesn’t take long before Stiles cums, his eyes rolled back into his head at the exertion.

Argent clears his throat from the sofa where he’s spread out in the sun, his head pillowed in his arms.

“Take a nap, and when you wake up it will be my turn.”

Stiles snorts a bit, “Your turn for what?” he asks slurrily.

Argent turns facing the back of the couch and then lifts his leg over the back of it, arching his hips and exposing his vulnerability (and asshole).

“To ask for forgiveness.”

Stiles eyes are still closed, but Derek can’t look away, not even if he actually tried, “What, you want us to fuck the sorry out of you?” Derek is maybe finally catching on to what this is all really about and Stiles pats him lovingly on the cheek. He opens his eyes just in time to see Argent nod. It’s nearly imperceptible, but once Stiles sees it, it fills the room.

“Shit, you do, don’t you? Well alright, now is nap time, but when we get up, Derek and I are going to DP you until you scream.”

And they do.

*****

The sun is low in the sky, so low Argent can’t see it, but he can see the beginning of twinkling stars from the window. He’s putting things back in his bag and hoists it over his shoulder as he heads towards the door. He gives the room one last look and notices Stiles’ sleepy eyes on him. Derek is breathing deeply, snoring lightly in that way that he does as he holds Stiles tightly on top of him. Stiles doesn’t look entirely comfortable, but like he’s getting there.

“I thought you coming here was going to be about forgiveness. That after you fucked him over, if you could save his son he’d be okay and you’d be even. But when you actually showed up -and when you threw me out of my own damned house- that’s when I knew that you knew.”

“Knew what?” Argent sits on the chair by the door. He winces slightly at the tingling in his freshly fucked ass, but he loves it. The seat was still a little wet, but he wasn’t bothered with it. He’s always marveled at Stiles’ perceptiveness, he wonders how much he read into the situation, he knows that knowing Stiles… it was a lot.

“That he’s never going to forgive you. Not ever.”

It was short, simple and not said maliciously, and it cut Argent like a knife, though it was the truth. He nods.

“I changed his life.”

“You broke his heart.”

“Your mother mended it.”

“My mother had to.” Again, the statements didn’t feel accusatory, but there was a hurt that Argent expected, though from Stiles it was no less biting. Argent shrugs.

“What can I say? I’m a monster, and I’m in love with another monster who makes me pay for it every single day. Though you are wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Stiles asks, resting his chin thoughtfully on Derek’s chest. Like it was a constant. Argent knew that it was.

“This was never really about John’s forgiveness; well, actually, you were right and wrong. I know that John and I are a lost cause, and I know that he’ll never forgive me, but… this is about you, Stiles.” Stiles doesn’t reply, just raises an eyebrow as he twirls his finger in a whorl of Derek’s chest hair. “I saw you poised on a ledge, Stiles, with Derek at the bottom ready to catch you and you refusing to jump off. I saw your fear and I saw your loathing of it. I saw you wanting to seek comfort, but rejecting it. You should be relishing it in, letting Derek protect you. For fuck sake he carries a fucking gun and still you wouldn’t let your guard down.”

“I trust him.”

Argent sighs and shakes his head, “You love him, but you don’t _trust_ anyone.” Stiles opens his mouth slightly, as if to protest, but then thinks better of it. He looks at Derek like he’s seeing the wonder of him for the first time. Argent knows that look, he’s given it twice in his life. Once to John, the other time to Peter. He’s never stopped giving it to Peter. “A part of you is still resentful, even though you know it’s illogical. You know there’s nothing they could have done and yet you still hate that he wasn’t there for you, and worse that you needed him so badly.”

“You don’t know shit, Argent. You think you- but you don’t. You _don’t_.” Stiles turns his face and Argent is sure there’s a tear running down it, but Argent gives him a bit of grace.

“Maybe it doesn’t completely make up for John. But I like to think I helped here today. That even though the anger isn’t completely damped out, you’re working on it. That it’s a start, and I did that. When you get to my age, Stiles, the starts are few and far between, and you learn to cherish each one.”

“My dad will never forgive you, Argent. Not ever.” Stiles says with a long, withering yawn. He closes his eyes and nestles his head into Derek’s chest, “But I’m getting closer, I’m nearly…” he trails off and Argent grins.

He stands, bag in hand, and moves back towards the bed. Careful not to rustle Derek, he places a firm hand on Stiles’ neck and kisses him surely on the pout.

“You already have.”

Stiles doesn’t react really, just smirks and flips Argent off in a move akin to a fond farewell. Argent goes down the hall and on the way out he catches his reflection in the large mirror that lines the entryway. He grins and points at his other self.

“You’re next.” He says with a wink. And then he leaves.


	9. Epilogue: A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles picks up the drycleaning, and some new habits.

“You came pretty highly recommended.” Stiles says to the longsuffering cashier at the drycleaners. He’s already handed her Derek’s ticket and they can’t seem to find his suit. The one Stiles splattered all of his cum over as Derek fucked him naked half hanging out their bedroom window. “I’m sure it’s back and there and I’m sure you did a great job getting out the… icing. Can you please take another look?”

The woman’s face bristles as she snatches the ticket back from Stiles and goes to the back.

While he waits he makes a mental list of what other shit he can get done in the strip mall. He knows the creamery has Derek’s favorite gelato so he’ll probably pick some of that up on the way home. Hmm, he should call and see if there’s any flavor he would like in particular. He couldn’t remember which flavor Derek liked best in his ass, was it coffee or tutti frutti?

“Hey, bear. Whacha doing?”

“I’m in that strip mall on Clovant Ave. Peter is buying me shoes. He insisted and I have no idea why, but… free shoes.”

Stiles grins, “No shit, I’m at the drycleaners picking up your suit. I was gonna pick up some gelato on the way home.”

“Really? That’s crazy! Yeah, why don’t you come over and we’ll make him buy you a pair too. Then we can take the gelato and go home.”

Stiles looks outside to where his dad is sitting in the car. He’s looking pointedly somewhere down the row of stores.

“Derek, is Argent there?”

“What? No! He’s… oh shit, he’s about to come in! How the fu- how did you know-”

“Dad’s in the car.”

“Oh. Well I’ll see you at home then.”

“Yeah. Give Argent my regards.”

Derek huffs, “Sure thing. Love you, see you at home. Oh! And get the tutti frutti!”

“Love you too, see you.”

Stiles turns and collects the suit from the woman who seems more relieved to have found the garment than Stiles is to have it. As he leaves, he chances a glance towards the shoe store. He sees Derek finish up lacing a pair and then he stands as though just noticing Argent is there. Stiles knows he’s blushing, but he’s the picture of normalcy as he shakes Argents hand and smiles his famous 100 watt smile. Stiles’ attention shifts a bit to the right where Peter is staring at him warily through the glass. Stiles winks and gives a little wave before heading to the ice cream shop.

He gets the treats quickly and puts the freezer bag along with Derek’s suit in the back seat of the car.

His dad is playing in his phone, pretending like he’s not a 30+ year officer of the law and has never noticed anything unusual in his entire life.

“That ice cream for Derek?” well, an officer with tunnel vision at the very least.

“Sure as hell ain’t for you, old man.” Stiles says as he pulls into the street.

“Hey! Come on now, I deserve something sweet.”

“You’ve got Melissa.” Stiles jokes knowing if he wasn’t driving his dad would probably punch him in the arm.

“I’ve raised a deviant.” The sheriff mumbles to himself instead. He goes back to rummaging through his phone, “Now, how do I look at a snap again? I swear they changed everything just as I learned it. This last update was bullshit, none of the changes are on the website. Why the hell do I care what the Kardashians are doing? I don’t know half these people, what do I want to see their stories for? And don’t think I haven’t noticed your little _groups_. I’m in green and I know you so I know there’s a yellow and a red because I’ve seen the red on Scott’s phone and the yellow on Parrish’s down on the station and don’t get me wrong kid: I don’t even want to know what yellow and red are! Just know that the internet is forever and I don’t _ever_ want to see your ass in some email chain. Dammit, how do I turn the bunny ears off-”

Stiles watches the road in front of him as the horizon reshapes itself, always managing to stay the same distance away.

“Dad, I’ll show you when we get home.”

His dad huffs again, “Hell, I just might take you up on that. You’ve been a lot more patient lately, less controlling and damn near pleasant. I’m not sure who I have to thank for that, but I don’t want to jinx it and be stuck looking at Chloe talk about Big Dick Energy for 15 seconds.”

Stiles’ phone buzzes against his thigh and he checks it covertly his dad still occupied beside him. It’s a picture from Derek’s phone, but it’s off Derek and Peter and Derek’s new shoes. Stiles considers who took the picture and tucks the phone back into his pocket.

He sails through the red light of an empty intersection and glances at his dad whose nose is still in his phone.

He smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all! Hope you enjoyed it, comments and kudos are welcome! This was... a ride, lol. That's all I got!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Hunter & the Prey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15616152) by [Faladrast (surfgirl1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfgirl1/pseuds/Faladrast)




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